To Judge A Book
by Razamataz22
Summary: First impressions are a must in the magical world. It is a shame however that nobody ever takes the time to look beyond his face.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 _..._

 _Harry sat underneath the familiar tree, his knees pulled up to his chest as he did his best to become invisible. In front of him were the rest of the school children he guessed were his peers, though they had never treated him as such. This was part of the reason why he was trying to suppress his crying at the moment._

 _That and the gash that was currently bleeding out above his eye._

 _With his left hand he applied pressure to the wound, knowing that nobody else would help him in this situation. Anytime he had approached the school nurse with a similar injury she had pushed him out the door immediately, a venomous comment following suit._

 _Of course they weren't of the same calibre as those of his fellow classmates. Even now they echoed in his ears, every demeaning term a seven year old could think of._

 _Monster._

 _Freak._

 _Weirdo._

 _Butt face._

 _Demon._

 _Beast._

 _He had heard of the old 'Sticks and Stones' proverb but to him words stabbed at him like a knife. Looking up from his secluded area he found he was no longer alone, the rest of the kids staring at them with their fingers pointed at him._

" _Freak. Freak. Freak. Freak."_

 _All Harry could do to defend himself was cover his ears and try and block out the sound but somehow it only became louder, constant yelling in his ears as the faces of those in front of him twisted and warped, becoming more hellish by the second. Harry forced his eyes shut but the faces still appeared on the insides of his eyelids, burned into his retina as the yelling become static screams the threatened to deafen him._

 _Opening his eyes for but a second he saw his cousin Dudley standing in front of him, his fist cocked back momentarily before he swung at Harry's face._

…

Harry awoke with a start, sweat beading down his forehead as he breathed in and out heavily desperately trying to get his breath back. Turning his attention to the window he was reminded that he was no longer at that school and those children could never torment him again. Yet he was still very much afraid that his worries were not yet over.

No, they would never be over.

Calming himself, Harry looked out the window of the Hogwarts Express, watching the scenery go by as he listened to the sound of the engine chuff away. For an eleven year old boy having recently discovered he was a wizard, the journey should have been an exciting one, filled with hope and anticipation. Harry however was full of dread.

For the longest of times he hadn't been able to understand why everyone had loathed him with what seemed like a burning passion. He had followed the rules of society, had tried to make friends, had been kind to everyone he met. Yet it was futile. They always creased their eyebrows into a frown, pulling their children along by the wrist or running away screaming like he would murder someone. The only creatures who did not shy away from him were the stray dogs that lived in Little Whinging. Uncle Vernon would never admit to their existence -it would be a smudge on the pristine image that the inhabitants tried to cultivate for their neighbourhood-, but Harry discovered where to find them and how to play along with their games. The dogs did not judge him; they greeted him as an equal. In time he would be their leader.

As Harry got older, understanding began to dawn on him. It never hit him full force, rather adding to a well that had been dry for the first seven or eight years of his existence. It wasn't until Dudley learned some new vocabulary that he understood just what was different about him.

He was strange. He was not like the rest.

Most of all, he was ugly. Hideous even. All the mean words had been true. He was a weirdo. He was a freak. At times Harry even felt like the town's favourite word, 'monster', was the most accurate description.

While he could now leave Surrey behind him, Harry felt no better.

When he had watched a family pass through the portal to Platform Nine and Three Quarters he had seen some of the stares he had received. Watched as people had ushered their children closer to their bosom in fear of him. He didn't blame them by any means; he had lived in a cupboard under the stairs for most of his life. The only time he had really been permitted out of his 'room' was for meals and school, both which he wished he didn't have to experience.

Throughout his education thus far he had done so without a single friend to call his own, nobody wanted to partner up with him for activities and even the teachers had avoided making eye contact with the boy. He had learned pretty early on that even if he raised his hand to answer a question the teacher would never select him. So he simply stopped trying. It didn't mean that he slacked off in his studies, far from it. Having to effectively teach himself had been difficult, referencing dictionaries for help with spelling and calculators to tell him whether or not he had been correct in his mathematical equations. He couldn't even compare his notes with those of his peers, not like they ever copied as much as he did. He always did more than necessary and was studying at a much higher level than his peers and had his relatives actually visited the school they could have discussed potentially moving him up a grade.

They never did.

Life at home had been just as bad. His aunt and uncle refused to look at him and barely said anything more than commands to clean or that dinner was ready. He never really expected much from them and other than living under their roof they wanted as little to do with him as possible. Dudley was just as bad. Dudley did more than say mean things. He used his fists too.

"Excuse me," said a timid voice from the doorway, snapping Harry out of his musings. Turning towards the compartment door he saw a student roughly his own age. He also recognised him as a part of the family that he had followed onto the platform after hearing the word 'Muggles.' Harry watched as the boy's eyes widen for but a moment before he looked away. "Never mind."

Harry said nothing as the boy walked away. Once more Harry couldn't blame the reactions of the red-haired boy. He didn't believe that just because he now belonged to a magical community that things would be different. It was almost reassuring knowing that his belief had been spot on. The boy's mother had been somewhat helpful in helping him discover the platform but the reaction he had gotten from her had almost seemed fake, a plastered on smile that showed no real sense of fear other than the eyes. Sure she had explained it well enough almost as if reading from a script but Harry could read her eyes' as clear as day and while the rest of her face put on the display she was calm and collected her eyes screamed of her disgust.

It was hard to tell which was worse.

Since he had set foot into the magical community, Harry had been receiving stares from everywhere around him. Most of them etched reactions of disgust or fear. What was quite remarkable for Harry to note was that the Goblins at Gringotts had received him with open arms. The Goblin who had showed him to his vault, identified as Griphook, had told him that Goblins had little liking for magical humans, but Harry appeared to be an exception, though the boy couldn't tell why. Perhaps they just had a soft spot in their hearts for the pitiable.

There was one person who shocked him more than anyone. Hagrid, who had come to Harry on a stormy night on a cliff by the sea, had greeted the boy with a smile and a handful of kind words. Harry had sat and stared at this giant, completely nonplussed, not understanding. He had thought that Hagrid was just pulling him along into this fantasy where people did not view him as the monster he thought himself to be. Hagrid could only smile and speak in a warm tone, telling him of the days where he had been friends with Harry's parents and how great they had been. When Hagrid said that he had been the one to pull Harry out of the rubble of his parental home after Hallowe'en eleven terrible years ago, he actually cried a bit. The look he had then received from those beady black eyes hadn't been fright, nor pity. It had been love.

And just like that, Harry had one person who saw him as he was: _a person._

But good times never last long.

The rest of his trip through Diagon Alley had been an odd experience. He had tried to keep his emotions in check when he had witnessed the incredible atmosphere around him and the people had generally ignored him. Whether that was better than purposefully isolated was yet to be seen.

Focusing back on the view outside, Harry contemplated what his new life would be like and whether or not it would be at all different from anything else he had experienced. Optimism clearly wasn't his forte. During his musings he was interrupted by the trolley lady and he had purchased himself a couple of cornish pasties, ignoring the tempting supply of chocolate and sweets on offer. He had never had such treats before and figured that there was no point in doing so now.

His isolation however would be broken as he felt the urge to go to the bathroom rise, his lunch seemingly passing straight through him. Hoping that his belongings would be safe without the watch of anyone, Harry got up from his seat and left the safety of the room before moving down the carriage. Momentarily he glanced within a room filled with other students his age. A high pitched scream alerted him to the fact that he had been seen and he quickly made his way down the aisle to the restroom.

After having relieved himself and returning to the comfort of his compartment he was thankful mostly for the fact that nobody had decided to steal his belongings. Before he could return to his gazing out the window he heard somebody enter the door behind him. "Excuse me, have you seen a toad, a boy named Neville has lost his," said the person currently standing behind him.

"I haven't," responded Harry, refusing to turn and make eye contact with the female student behind him.

"You know, it's quite rude to talk to me without having the courtesy to look me in the eye," said the witch in a know-it-all manner which mildly grated on Harry's nerves.

"Trust me, it's better this way," said Harry, fighting the urge allow sarcasm to lace his voice. He just wanted to be left alone, why couldn't this person understand that? It was better that they not associate them.

"I feel as if you are deliberately attempting to ruin my pride and while many our age would scoff and walk away I feel as if I deserve to at least see your face."

"Please...don't make me."

The girl was taken aback by this sudden change in demeanour and somehow felt as if she were now the villain in this verbal confrontation. At first it had seemed as if he were just doing his best to ignore her but now it seemed as if there was a reason for this, something she wasn't certain of. Being the absorbent sponge of knowledge that she was and with such a riddle in front of her she was determined to discover the truth.

"I feel as if we've gotten off on the wrong foot, my name's Hermione Granger," she introduced herself.

"Harry Potter," he said, still refusing to turn and face her.

"Are you really?" asked Hermione. "Is that why you don't want to look at me, because you're a celebrity?"

"No, trust me, it's not that," said Harry.

"Then what is it?" asked Hermione as she stepped further into the room.

"Please..."

"Just show me your face."

Harry sighed in defeat feeling that he wouldn't get the isolation he wanted until he obeyed the girl's wishes. His turning was slow and precise and Hermione could see that he was afraid of what would happen. Surely it couldn't just be that he was shy...could it?

As Harry finished his turn she suddenly understood why he had been so hesitant to look at her. She had read in her books that the Killing Curse that had struck Harry had left a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The author clearly had based her studies on rumours as opposed to facts.

All she saw was a network of scars littered across his face, nothing like the books she had read stated. They were almost terrifyingly mesmerizing, patterns carved into his very flesh painting a collage of disfigurement and fear. They ranged from thin lines to etches as thick as her finger and were every shade of dark red, making it look as if they were threatening to bleed out at a moment's notice. She could understand what he was afraid of; his looks felt as if they would frighten anybody who looked at them. By no means was it what she had been expecting but it was far, far worse than what her imagination had concocted.

"Do...do they..."

"Over the whole body, yea," answered Harry guessing what Hermione was going to say.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have tried to pry into your privacy like that, I should have just left you alone," said Hermione in a hurried voice.

"No, thanks, it's been years since anyone my age has wanted to talk to me," said Harry.

Hermione quickly was about to refute his comment but the sadness in his eyes answered any questions she could construct. As harsh as it sounded, she couldn't help but feel as if she was the first person who had actually held a conversation with him in months. She was well aware how ruthless schoolchildren could be, she herself had been the target of many hurtful comments that would render her crying in a corner with nothing but her books for comfort. She felt for Harry however that the suffering his peers would have put him under would have been far more severe than her own torment.

"Well...Harry...I think I heard some of the older students say that we're near Hogwarts, you should get changed...I'll see you in class," said Hermione before leaving, heavy thoughts weighing on her mind. Harry meanwhile stood there for several daunting moments, replaying the entire conversation they had shared in his mind. It was nice, to be able to actually speak with someone instead of just being ignored or avoided constantly. Closing the door, dread crept through his being as he realized that was possibly the last time that Hermione Granger would want to willingly talk to him.

...

Harry hid at the back of the pack, keeping his head low in an attempt to use his hair to block out the view of his face. For the most part it worked, especially since many of the first year students had seemingly made friends on the Hogwarts Express and were currently engaged in conversation. Likewise it had been very similar on the boat ride over where Harry clambered into the boat that Hagrid had ridden, the gentle half-giant many times his age seemingly the only person he could communicate with without judging him. The rest of the students he knew would not be so tolerable.

Deep down though he knew it was only a matter of time. At some time he would have to show his face if anything the professor leading them through the halls was telling the truth. Looking to the side he viewed a portrait smiling at the new students but it would seem even the furnishings disliked him if the shrewd look he received was anything to go by. Seemed he was destined to be scrutinised and isolated.

Harry barely managed to stop in place as the group came to an abrupt halt ahead of a set of doors tall enough for the half-giant that had escorted him through Diagon Alley. Harry didn't particularly pay any attention to what the woman in front of him was saying. At the end of the day all he really wanted was to have some dinner and go to bed.

"So, are the rumours true?" asked one of the students as the witch left momentarily. Harry snuck a quick glance at the person commanding attention, the blonde-haired child puffing out his chest as if he owned the school. He reminded Harry of the many people who metaphorically walked over him over the past few years. Harry knew he couldn't do anything then and likely wouldn't be able to do anything now.

"What rumour?"

"That Harry Potter's come to Hogwarts," said the pompous boy, making Harry immediately drop his face. "C'mon then Harry, show yourself." Harry, understandably, had no intention to do anything of the sort. This, in turn, seemed to mildly upset the ponce. "What are you Harry, a coward?"

When there was still no response, the blonde kid began to grind his teeth together and Harry couldn't help but feel he'd inadvertently made the boy make a fool of himself. Hopefully he would avoid any retribution for this. Before the boy could say any more the doors to the hall opened up showing the female professor once more. "Follow me please," she instructed, turning on her heel and leading the way, the pack quickly following.

Harry remained at the back, keeping his head down and watching the feet in front of him. He was truly afraid of what was to come, having no real idea what to expect happen. Again the group came to an eventual stop and thankfully this time he avoided nearly colliding with those in front of him. Every so often he peered from side to side and whenever he could see anybody turn their attention towards him he immediately shot his gaze at the ground once more.

His heart started beating louder, he could hear the constant thump thump in his ears to the point where it was pounding at his skull. Perspiration continued to build on his brow and fear began to claw at his very being. His fingers begin to shake and cold shivers ran down the length of his spine.

Harry didn't register his name being called for the first time but the hushed whispers surrounding him felt more like the cold breathes filled with hate. Perhaps it was for this reason that when his name was called a second time he turned his back to the group and ran.

...

Dumbledore watched the scene play out in front of him as young Harry Potter fled the Great Hall. He had hoped that his instructions to Molly Weasley hadn't been too vague. Dumbledore had implanted the idea into her mind that Ron would be a perfect friend for Harry and that he should have sought him out on the train so that they could become friends.

Dumbledore sighed and signalled for Minerva to continue the sorting, he would track down Harry once the feast had begun and speak with him privately. From what he could assume, young Harry had come down with something of a panic attack. Albus would give him time to gather his wits before explaining to him what a wonderful opportunity had been presented to him by allowing him to study under the finest instructors the United Kingdom had to offer.

He would introduce Harry to Ronald another time so that Harry could interact with somebody whom Dumbledore could easily probe information from. It didn't take much to see that the young boy would basically give him whatever intel he required for nothing more than a Chocolate Frog. Hopefully he would connect with the family that blindly served him and his drive towards a better world. He didn't know what House the Sorting Hat would have put him in but he would personally induct Harry into Gryffindor so that he could be with those who would serve their purpose dutifully. If anything he could state that it was the House in which his mother and father had grown up in and that he should be proud to follow in their footsteps.

A cough from Minerva alerted Albus to the fact that the Sorting Ceremony had drawn to a close and that his speech was now required. Clearing his throat, he pushed all thoughts of Harry temporarily to the back of his mind as he got to his feet and made his way to the podium. Duties to attend to after all.

...

Harry bit back the nerves that strangled every pore as he stepped closer and closer to the new confines that would become his home for the foreseeable future. Behind him was the Headmaster of the school who had found him tucked up in a corner of the halls, the former contents of his stomach painting the wall next where he had sat.

Harry watched as the bile was removed with a flick of the elderly man's wand before trying to speak to Harry almost as if the two of them were equals, or at least would be in some time. Harry had also liked the fact that Professor Dumbledore had ignored the disfigurement which was his face and wondered whether or not the man was partially blind.

The professor had explained while the reaction young Harry had had wasn't unnatural it was a rare occurrence, and he was understanding that Harry's nerves had gotten the better of him. He had been reassuring with his statements and Harry truly felt that he could trust the man.

At least he thought the feeling was trust, having never truly experienced it with another human before.

Now though he stared at the portrait of the gatekeeper of the Gryffindor common room. According to Dumbledore all he had to say was the password and the portrait would move to the side and allow him access. Fear though kept his lips sealed and his throat dry. At least when he was living with the Dursley's he would have the isolation that the broom cupboard provided. There would be no such luxury here.

Roommates.

The thought terrified him.

"Go on Harry," said Albus reassuringly from behind him.

Harry's legs began to cramp.

"It'll be alright."

Sweat beads began to form atop his brow.

"Trust me."

Vision began to fade.

"Harry!"

Darkness.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed. This ideas been on my mind for quite some time and I finally was able to put it down so please let me know what you think. Cheers.**

 **P.S. Huge shout out to my beta Kalebxdd who puts up with my constant nagging and sorts through the crud I usually put forth. If you get the chance I ask of you to check out his stories as he is one f the best authors I have come across.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Harry's eyes fluttered open slowly, no splitting headache or migraine from the result of a traumatic nightmare. Even though he had fallen unconscious he hadn't felt so rested in a long time. Lifting up his hand to rub at his eyes he did his best to make out his surroundings, however with his poor eyesight everything looked little more than a blur.

"You're awake, Mister Potter," said a stern voice frightening Harry something chronic as a brown haze moved into his line of sight. "Your glasses are on the bedside cabinet if that's what you're looking for."

With his gaze still on the blur, Harry fumbled for his glasses, his fingers finally gripping hold of the wire frame held together with the finest tape he could steal. Placing the glasses on his face and allowing his vision to come full focus he took the opportunity to look around, finding himself in an almost painfully white setting with curtains on either side of him. It didn't take him long to realize this was the infirmary, he'd spent enough time in them over the years. Or at least spent as much time in there as minimally required before being tossed out by the school nurse.

"How are you feeling?" asked the resident healer.

"Fine," said Harry as he swung his legs out from underneath the covers and got ready to leave.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Umm...well I thought..."

"Back on the bed, now," commanded the nurse, Harry immediately obeying her order. "You've been out for nearly three days now."

"Three days?" repeated Harry in disbelief, no wonder he felt well rested.

"Your body was exhausted and your mind even more so, tell me, how many days has it been since you've had a solid night's sleep?"

"..."

"That tell's me all I needed to know," said the nurse as she began rummaging through some drawers before pulling out a couple of potions. "I'm going to have you stay another night Mister Potter, other than you're terrible sleeping situation you are also dreadfully malnourished, bones as fragile as glass and a magical core as feeble as a mermaid out of water. I'm going to have to have you come to my office on a weekly basis so we can administer a proper ongoing treatment over the coming months which will get you back on track."

"...Thank you," said Harry, the words sounding foreign coming out of his mouth as if it were the first time he was saying it. This didn't go unnoticed by Madam Pomfrey in the slightest.

"The thing, Mister Potter, that is most important however is that you are clear and precise in both your intentions and your actions," said Poppy. "It is plain as day that you have had a rough upbringing and I fear that may be the greatest understatement I have ever made. I feel as if you desperately wish to make friends but are afraid of rejection. As hard as this is to say, and likely more difficult to hear, you will have trouble at this school because of your...condition. Many of the students hear have heard of your name well before you knew what it meant to be Harry Potter and you have shattered each and every one of their expectations. Those who come from Pure Blooded families who had received news that you would be attending this school had likely been instructed by their parents to befriend you for the sole purpose of getting close to your name."

"My name? You don't mean Harry Potter do you."

It wasn't a question.

"Correct; to the Wizarding World, before you are the boy named Harry Potter you are the hero proclaimed as 'The Boy Who Lived.' You, who has had minimal interactions with the people known as 'friends' will have to actually figure out just who wishes a friendship with you to be genuine. Those who are not simply wish to abuse your name, your money and your power. Do you understand?"

"I do," said Harry calmly.

"You're taking this awful well for an eleven year old," said Poppy crossing her arms.

"I've come to tolerate the belief that I would always be alone," said Harry as he pulled his knees into his chest. "I would be ignored forever at school and those who did talk to me would do so out of pity. I never wanted a friendship to be based on pity, so I don't think that I would want one where I'm being used. I grew up much faster than those around me and had nobody to rely on but myself. I don't think that'll change anytime soon."

"Good, last thing we need is for some upended bureaucrat to get their claws into you. If you were to start looking for a friend I wish you well, but do your best not to be drawn into a trap. I don't want to see you in one of my bed's because you were to gullible or were trying to impress 'the boys.'"

"I've seen what boys do to impress each other, that's not me," declared Harry flatly as he pushed himself off of the bed, struggling momentarily and almost falling before managing to right himself.

"Relying on pretend strength, both physically and mentally will do you no good in the long run," said Poppy as she let out a heavy sigh. "I am going to request of you that you remain here for another few nights, Harry, I feel that there is something we must accomplish together before you go out in public once more."

Harry, at first didn't like the idea of remaining in the Hospital Wing for the foreseeable future but so far the school nurse had been the only person in memory who had actually taken the time to listen to what he was saying, even if most of what he had said was nothing more than bravado. He wasn't sure what this feeling was but from what he'd read he believed it was something akin to gratitude….perhaps.

...

Poppy returned to her office and pondered just what the best treatment she should administer for the boy's mental state. It was clear from his bravado earlier that he was used to relying on himself and himself alone; judging by his physical state she figured that that included patching himself up after injury.

She hadn't gone into full details with the child regarding the worst of his condition, she felt as if he already knew. His rather calm acceptance when she had said that some would likely try to befriend him to use him had been unsettling. She hypothesized that he had been fooled at least once into trusting someone only to have it thrown back in his face.

Reaching for a book off her shelf, she skimmed through the table of contents before turning towards the appropriate page and wondering whether this would likely be the right course of action. She would request of Professor Flitwick to take Harry in as a dueling apprentice. She had little doubt that the boy would find himself on the end of more than a single villainous attack, having been working in this infirmary for decades now had taught her more than enough about how children react. As much as she hated saying it, Harry would be a target until the day he graduated, probably even for the rest of his life.

Hopefully the Charms Professor would see her reasoning and agree to teach Harry how to defend himself. There was always fear when contemplating such a thing, giving a single child strength and spells that they weren't meant to be aware of for years to come, but Poppy instinctively knew that Harry wasn't the vindictive type and wouldn't actively seek out to injure his peers.

What she was looking at to help him outside of standard spellcraft and wizardry was not the wisest thing she would ever suggest to an eleven-year-old child. Drastic times did call for desperate measures however, and she would not allow such an innocent boy to give up on the thought of a happy life just yet. There had been the slightest fire in his words, just enough to assure her that this path may just be the path to his salvation.

Closing the book, she exited the office and returned to Harry's bedside, the child sitting with his back to her as he stared out the window at a flock of sparrows dancing in the breeze. Poppy felt that the boy needed an out, somewhere that he could go where only those he truly trusted would be able to visit, provided he ever opened himself up fully to trust anyone.

"There is one course of action I'd like you to look at," said Poppy as she laid the book down on the mattress. "Your thoughts are some of your biggest crutches, your emotions will likely unbalance you in almost every situation. Your mind is, unfortunately, a weapon that can be used against you. Any snide remark or unfriendly comment could be disastrous now that you effectively carry a tool that can be used for violence on you at all times. While this is unorthodox in every healing method I have ever come across I feel it is a necessity for you to survive in Hogwarts."

"What is it?" asked Harry as he turned around to face the nurse, a touch of hope in his eyes reassuring Poppy that the boy hadn't given up hope just yet.

"Occlumency."

...

Dumbledore calmly meandered through the empty hallowed halls minutes before classes finished for the day. A little over a week had passed since that dreadful incident regarding young Mister Potter and he had yet to surface from the solitary confinement that Poppy had erected around him. On more than one occasion he had tried to gain access into the nurse's area but the resident Healer had forbidden him from even stepping foot inside of her ward. He couldn't help but admire her tenacity on the subject, even if it was grating on his nerves.

Nevertheless, he opted to abide by Madam Pomfrey's wishes and allow her to work in solitude in order to bring Harry back to the physical peak expected of an eleven year old child. He knew however that the treatment young Harry would have to undergo would be monstrous in length, months upon months of remedial potions to get his body up to scratch.

Humming a merry tune, Albus watched as the door leading to the History of Magic classroom opened, allowing the rabble of schoolchildren previously trapped inside with the undead teacher to escape. Having worked with the ghost for some decades now the Headmaster was well aware of the teacher's tendencies to, for lack of a better word, dribble on.

A number of greetings came his way from the young first year students and he returned them in kind. So many young children of various backgrounds all looking up to him as the outstanding wizard that he was. Before all of his achievements he was the head of the school and as such it was his duty to mold and groom their young minds to a standard befitting the magical world. The Ministry believed in his system and other than a once-a-year check up (which primarily consisted of him and both the Minister of Magic and the Head of the Education Department sharing a cup of tea and or brandy, depending on the day) he had little to worry about in regards to interference of his work. The only real nuisances he faced came in the form of Lucius Malfoy doing his best to manipulate the Hogwarts Board into passing miniscule rules and regulations which would profit those who paid him the most.

He was well aware of the former Death Eater's ability, both in raw power and his tongue. Albus sincerely doubted the possibility that Lucius had been under the Imperius Curse when he had been working side by side with Voldemort. He was a true snake through and through. Now though he was rubbing shoulders with Cornelius Fudge and no doubt slowly filling the Minister's pockets with more and more gold in order to gain more power. To what end and purpose however was difficult to tell.

Returning to the present, Albus suppressed a scowl as he realized he hadn't spotted the trademark ginger hair that was common for Gryffindor students these days. Entering the classroom, Albus found the young boy he was searching for with his head still upon his desk, having been lulled to sleep by Professor Binns' monotonous speech. Striding forward, a small flick of his wand sent a casual stinging hex at the back of Ron Weasley's head, the small jab of magic enough to snap the boy out of his slumber.

"What the bloody hell?" he cursed as his dream for flying with the Chudley Cannons was shattered.

"Language, Mister Weasley," Albus lightly scolded, Ron standing at attention immediately, realizing just _who_ was addressing him.

"Professor Dumbledore...I was just, umm..."

"It is quite alright, Mister Weasley, you are not the first student to have fallen asleep in one of Professor Binns' lectures and I sincerely doubt that you will be the last," said Albus with a smile. "If you've got a spare minute or two may I ask that you take whatever lecture notes you may have taken before your slumber and share them with young Mister Potter. He has yet to be released from the Hospital Wing and it would be terribly unfortunate for him were he to be caught behind in all of his subjects."

"Ah, yes...of course, my notes," stumbled Ron as Albus walked around his desk to discover that the ink had yet to touch the parchment in regards to Ron's note taking ability.

Biting at his inner lip, Albus turned his direction to the ghost still shambling around in the room. "Professor Binns, young Ronald here seems to have misplaced his notes from today's lecture and he is more than willing to listen to your lesson again in order to ensure he get's the most out of the criteria."

"I am?" said Ron in confusion.

"I believe I can do that," said Professor Binns.

"Be a good boy now Mister Weasley, I'm counting on you," said Dumbledore as he left the ginger-haired child to his torture.

...

Hermione stood at the end of the hallway, a satchel full of notes by her side and a conundrum on her hands. Since the Sorting Feast the question on everyone's lips was in regards to what had happened to Harry Potter. She didn't blame them by any means; the equivalent of a movie star had wandered into the room only to sprint out moments later.

Rumours lurked everywhere. One of the strangest was that he'd had the sudden urge to go to the bathroom, but had lost his way in the corridors. After this particular piece of stupidity got a chance to stew in, it gave way to even more ridiculousness, students claiming that he could now only roam the halls at night, swallowed by the dark forces of the castle.. Other rumours basically stated that he had found himself on the forbidden third floor and the singular reason why students were prohibited from going there had claimed his life.

Hermione believed in something a lot more sensible than that and it was she now found herself near the Hospital Wing. Arguably this was a place where all students dreaded coming as it meant that something terrible had happened to them at some point. If Harry was somewhere after having injured himself and was resting and recuperating, this would be the place.

The main problem though was that she had no guarantee that her assumption was correct. Last thing she wanted to do was disturb the nurse on duty only to find that she was wrong about the whole situation. Her motives may have been pure but she needed to go about this in a different manner. She needed a legitimate reason to go into the nurse's office. With no offensive spells under her belt as of the moment, she turned to face the wall knowing full well that this was going to hurt a lot more than what she imagined.

...

"So, tell me Miss Granger, just how did you break your wrist?" inquired Madam Pomfrey as she sat on her stool, the crying child in front of her.

"I...fell," said Hermione in between sobs. Tears had long since stained her cheeks and she looked like an absolute wreck. She had only meant to bruise her knuckles but had put in much more force than she had intended.

Poppy scowled but could not really say anything in regards to the crying girl. It was obvious that she was lying but whether she was trying to protect someone or whatever other reason she couldn't well pry from her. Accidents did happen after all and this might just have been a single example of what could unexpectedly happen. "Very well then, take a seat on the bed while I get the appropriate potions," ordered Poppy, indicating the closest bed.

Doing her best to settle her tears, Hermione made her way to the hospital bed and took a seat, still cradling her injured wrist. Even though this wasn't quite what she had planned it had still gotten the desired response. Rolling her head she rubbed her cheeks on her shoulders, her school robes absorbing some of the moisture on her skin.

Thankfully her pain was soon alleviated as Madam Pomfrey returned from her office and conjured a sling for Hermione before handing her a potion. It tasted something foul but had the wonderful ability to ensure that the young Gryffindor no longer felt any pain from her injury. Unfortunately it didn't block out her sense of taste as she swallowed the next dosage which was to slowly heal the bones.

"You're going to have to stay here overnight," stated Poppy. "Thankfully you're my only patient at the moment so you have the whole ward to yourself."

"Only patient?" repeated Hermione.

"You sound surprised, were you hoping to find someone on their deathbed after just a week of school," said Poppy before striding away, Hermione slowly realizing that this entire endeavour was a fruitless expedition.

...

Filius looked at his new protege, Poppy having informed him earlier of the situation that was likely to arise with young Harry. He himself had been the subject of much loathing and discrimination as a result of the heritage he was proud of. Having been the butt of many jokes over his years he could only imagine what was likely to happen to the scar-riddled boy.

"Now, Harry, you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together, I hear," he said, Harry nodding in understanding. "You were raised a Muggle and as such you do not have the advantage of having some sort of pre-recognized training under your belt, meaning we will have to start with the basics. Remember though that what I teach you in these lessons are only to be used in the case of self-defence, otherwise I will cancel these sessions immediately."

"Yes, sir," said Harry with an air of determination around him.

Professor Flitwick gauged Harry carefully, the aura currently encircling him telling Filius what he needed to know. This wasn't a child who was going to abuse this knowledge for his own gain. This was a boy of eleven who had suffered so much more than what any other child should have. This was someone whom he could trust to use the knowledge given to him for no personal gain.

"Considering the studies you have to catch up with already along with your assignments and whatnot these classes are going to be teaching you how to run before you can crawl. The first spell I will be teaching is Protego, the shield charm. Casting this charm will drain you of your stamina but will protect you from most injury inducing attacks," explained Professor Flitwick.

"So I'm learning to defend before I can attack, because I won't be able to go on the offense without first being able to go on the defence," said Harry.

"In some situations, yes," said Filius. "So long as you can prevent harm from coming to you half the battle has already been won. There are many variations of Protego and many of which will likely still be created depending on the circumstance that arrives."

"Why so many versions?" asked Harry.

"The initial Protego requires a circular motion with your arm, a hand movement which is all too easy to spot and sometimes too slow for what is needed. On my way through the dueling circuit I once came across a man who was able to form smaller shields with nothing but a swirl of his finger and would cast the miniscule defences right in the path of the spells coming his way. No flashy movement, no long incantation, pinpoint precision and concentration was how he won his battles. Let me tell you now Harry, that was not an easy opponent to best," said Filius with a chuckle.

The next several minutes were spent as Filius demonstrated the correct arm movements for the shield charm, ensuring that there were no flaws in Harry's technique. "Alright, now Harry, remember how I told you earlier that we were going to make you run before you walk? It's time to make you sprint!"

"What?" asked Harry before he felt himself blown backwards off his feet, skidding across the polished floor. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, he clutched his wand tightly as he looked up at the former dueling champion.

"Perhaps I should have warned you, Harry, but I don't know how to go easy on an opponent!"

…


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

"Filius, I asked you to teach him how to defend himself, what happened?"

"I don't really know how to explain it."

"Well you better start now before I put you in the bed next to him."

Stirring from her slumber due to the voices nearby, Hermione remained still not wanting to interrupt this conversation between the resident nurse and what sounded like her Charms Professor. She wasn't sure who 'him' was but for some reason she had an inkling suspicion, either that or the potions she had taken earlier still had an affect over her.

"I taught him how to shield like you asked and then put it into practical effect, I must admit though that I may have been fairly harsh in teaching him. You must understand though that this isn't something you can simply only do in halves, nobody attacking him will give him time to react. I will state however that none of my attacks were outside of standard dueling rules, nothing that would leave permanent damage in other words."

Hermione heard what she thought was a disapproving scowl. "Continue."

"The thing that surprised me most of all was that there was this fire in his eyes, a deep yearning to prove himself and then after about half an hour of defending it happened."

"What happened?"

"He attacked back."

"I told you to teach him how to defend himself!"

"And I swear to you that is all I taught him but what I didn't know was that I wasn't the only one teaching him."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't pick it at first as I was more impressed by his ability to defend, even without the use of Protego, he would duck, weave and leap out of the way. He was watching my wand fiercely and able to predict where my spell would land, it was quite outstanding but I hazard to think just why he is able to act in such a way."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"At first I was merely intrigued by his attention to detail in regards to my wand movement, but then I realized he was studying it."

"You don't mean..."

"I do. The boy is a natural fighter and is able to pick up spells just from watching his opponent. Such level of talent is extraordinary. Once more though this train of thought is dampened by the reasoning as to why he has this talent. Is it a result of the curse he was struck by as a child, or due to the attacks you told me he sustained in his youth? While the first is possible, I strongly believe it is that latter and when he was set upon by Muggle youths he would watch and react accordingly. Chances were if he were ever to be in a single fist fight he would be able to hold his own, only his lack of muscle strength would prevent him from winning outright."

"And this ability is recreated through him watching the battle before him unfold?"

"It would seem so, I don't know how long we fought in the end but every time I would try something new he would try recreate the movement a dozen times, whilst avoiding attacks mind you, before being able to cast a weakened version of the spell. The boy is gifted I tell you, he just needs to know the remaining elements."

"Pronunciation and intent."

"Precisely. I have no idea whether or not his skill will be relatable to learning from a text or in other areas of magic but I can't wait to find out."

"I, meanwhile, can."

Hermione's eyes snapped open in regards to the sound of the newcomer into the conversation but otherwise she remained motionless. That was a distinct voice that she couldn't misinterpret at all.

"Professor Dumbledore, I wasn't expecting you at this hour. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"There is very little that happens within this castle without my knowledge, the teaching of defensive magic that put a student at risk is something which did peak my curiosity."

"I'm sorry we didn't inform you of this earlier, Headmaster."

"While I can imagine your reasoning is just, I must recommend that you shut down this pet project immediately."

"Why? You believe that he shouldn't be able to defend himself if the need arises?"

"I'm merely afraid of what others may think if it is discovered that we are giving young Harry preferential treatment. This school is a community and it could very well be divided if we were giving special classes to the Boy Who Lived within a fortnight of him having come to Hogwarts. I for one don't wish to step in front of the Board of Governors who believe I condone what they will call blatant favouritism."

"This boy has been mistreated his whole life and you would deny him..."

"Hogwarts should be a place where such knowledge is not needed on a practical level. I have no qualms with him taking the initiative to study ahead but to do so fearing that an attack may come from any other student is not what he should expect. Before you argue once more I must insist on this course of action, lest you wish to test the limits of your positions."

"...Very well then, if you wish to ensure that no prodigy walks these walls then so be it."

"I'm glad you see it my way."

"Before I leave however, on a final note, I believe that Harry has yet to be officially Sorted. From what I have gathered, I will very much like to be informed of when he is placed in Ravenclaw and under my care."

"Young Harry has already been Sorted into Gryffindor and will be under Minerva's care when he is fit to leave."

"I see, Madam Pomfrey. Headmaster, I wish you both good night."

"I shall accompany you Professor Flitwick, the hour is late and I too should be off. Good night Poppy."

"...You can stop pretending to be asleep now."

Hermione stiffened at that before looking over her shoulder to where Poppy was standing, clearly defeated. "How did you..."

"Does it matter?"

"...I guess not," said Hermione slowly. "What was all that about?"

"One thing you will never read in any history book depicting Albus Dumbledore is how hard he works to protect himself. Whether or not his reasoning before was true there is no doubt that the Board of Governors would attack him were they to come up with the belief that we were helping Harry for no other reason than his name. Of course this just would go to further show the bias this school has overall. He proclaims that no student should be ahead but take yourself for example, a first year with no magical background. While you could have potentially picked up a lot out of a textbook anybody born into a Pure Blooded family would have brewed their first potion by the time they were seven."

Hermione swallowed nervously feeling like she was being lectured about the ways of the world around her. A lot of the imagination she had put into the world she had created internally was crumbling down around her. "So Dumbledore..."

"Has many positions of power and will defend them as such. Any discredit that he may suffer now could shape his future for the next decade," stated Poppy.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Hermione.

"One piece of information that Professor Dumbledore let slip was that Harry will be a part of your house. While we may not be able to aide in helping Harry protect himself nothing was said in regards to peers helping one another learn something outside of their curriculum," said Poppy with a weak smile. Understanding, Hermione smiled in return. "Now Miss Granger, back to sleep with you and please think about your future from here on out."

…

Harry awoke from his sleep still in a little bit of the pain he had been put through the other day. Nothing in comparison to many of the injuries he had sustained and slumbered through in the past and he was thankful that he had been able to fight back, at least a little bit. Any time he had tried to counter against Dudley or his friends he had just been beaten worse, the lot of them mocking him for his lack of strength.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Harry fumbled around on the nearby bedside table until he gripped the frame of his glances. Once he was able to properly see once more he stretched his arms over his head. First thing he wanted to do was track down Professor Flitwick once more and go toe to toe with the diminutive teacher once more.

"Ah, you're awake," said the familiar sound of Poppy. After having spent such a long time with the nurse she had actually given him permission to call her by her first name, a privilege she refused to give any other student.

"Morning," said Harry.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," said Poppy, Harry's momentary happiness shattering immediately. "After you were brought here by Professor Flitwick, Headmaster Dumbledore came in and refused for Filius to teach you anymore."

"What!"

"Professor Dumbledore has a reputation to uphold and he fears that a first year student capable of dueling with spells he shouldn't even be aware of may injure his credibility," explained Poppy. "That doesn't mean that I want you to let up on your Occlumency training however, a firm mind will help you memorize spells and tone your combat abilities."

"But how can I do that without Professor Flitwick?" asked Harry.

"I believe I may have found you a new sparring partner," said Poppy with a cheeky smile as she indicated to the side, Hermione standing there waving her hand nervously.

"Hey Harry."

…

Having dismissed herself, Poppy entered her office and pondered just what would happen now that Harry had encountered a peer that wouldn't be turned away because of his looks. She was glad that there was somebody who wasn't so shallow; her time with the boy had shown that there was a beautiful soul trapped within him. Had he not been a victim of Voldemort's curse so long ago she imagined that he would be turning heads by the time he was in fourth year if not earlier.

The conversations she had had with the child showed that he was intelligent and she was able to pry information out of him regarding how he spent his spare time. While she scolded the fact that a good portion of his knowledge was spent ensuring that the curriculum he was taught was of the highest quality he hadn't pressed forward with his studies; this was likely due to not having any real guidance for his schooling thus far.

Rubbing at her eyes, she silently cursed Dumbledore for interfering the way that he had. The boy needed confidence in himself and his abilities and at the first time of showing true potential in anything it was ripped out from under him. He had seen how quickly the fire in his eyes had become extinguished but other than introducing the boy to Hermione there wasn't much more she could do for Harry. Her role as a nurse was over now that he was healed, school policy stated that once they were cured of any and all ailments preventing them from leaving then they must vacate the sick bay. She knew those rules like the back of her hand and was part of the reason why the administrative doses she had been giving Harry had been diluted in order to slow down his recovery. Those extra couple of days though she had helped him crack out of the cocoon that he had protecting himself but there would unlikely be a transformation anytime soon.

At the end of the day, she had only shown Harry a way out of the darkest pits of his mind that she had seen him in. Whether or not he would fall in once more was hard to say. She could merely pray he wouldn't do anything foolish.

…

For the longest while neither Harry nor Hermione said anything, they merely looked at one another, both at a loss of what to say. For Harry, it was the first time somebody had actually looked at him without making any rude or degrading remarks within the first handful of seconds. There were no venomous glares and whatever was in Hermione's eyes he had also seen within Poppy's. What it was though he still didn't know.

For Hermione she was afraid that she would muck up her first impression (she refused to count the poor conversation they had had on the train). She was afraid that she would open her mouth and the wrong words would come out. Hermione had never been one to break the ice unless it was in regards to a question where there was an absolute answer. She wasn't sure there was an answer to the dilemma in front of her.

"You said your name was Hermione," said Harry doing his best to try and get something of a conversation rolling.

"Yes," she said.

"That's an interesting name."

"I know right."

"…"

"…"

' _So much for that,_ ' thought Harry before he spotted the satchel resting from Hermione's shoulder. "How have classes been?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile. Now this was something she could talk about.

...

Sitting in a corner of the library, Harry studiously copied down the notes that Hermione had taken from the classes they were soon destined to share using a spare quill and parchment that Hermione had carried. Harry had to admit that the girl was intelligent, her note taking was quite extensive and almost on par with the amount that he could put down provided he was interested in the subject. Considering the topics were literally magical, he imagined his notes would more than likely rival Hermione's in length.

Looking up from her own work. Hermione could see people speaking to one another with hands covering their mouths, whispering to one another while staring directly at their table. It didn't take much for her to figure out who they were talking about.

"Don't worry about them," said Harry, speaking without looking up from his work.

"How can you just sit there and do nothing?" asked Hermione.

"There's not really much I can do," said Harry as he put down his quill, his work having been completed. "They talk behind my back and shout at my face just because they're afraid of me."

"I don't see anything to be afraid of," said Hermione, their eyes locking onto one another. "All I see is someone like me."

"Like you?"

"As you can see from my work I do my best in everything, even taking notes. I can't remember the last time I didn't get a perfect score on a test. I'm not sure what was shouted at you but you weren't the only one subjected to bullying. Nerd and bookworm were the most common words thrown at me on a daily basis; of course this just made me focus more on my studies even more. All the other girls were talking about the latest doll and I couldn't interact with them. I tried once and they all just laughed at me and called me names. So in the end I think I'm more like you than you think," concluded Hermione, her eyes glistening with tears threatening to stream down her face.

Harry meanwhile bit at the inside of his lip as he contemplated the importance of what Hermione had just told him. Somehow he got the feeling that this was similar to the way she was feeling in classes now, already she was reading material they wouldn't cover for months and he doubted she would slow down anytime soon; he knew that from experience. "So I guess then you're Doctor Frankenstein and I'm your creation then," said Harry in a pitiful attempt of a joke. It did little more than make Hermione chuckle but the tension was removed in the process.

"If you're done I guess we should head to the Common Room before dinner," said Hermione who flinched as she watched Harry's form physically sink. It seemed that while he didn't mind a couple of people at a time whispering about him the concept of being trapped in a room with people you were instructed to treat as your 'family' gripped at his nerves. "Don't worry, it'll be fine."

"No it won't," said Harry.

Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

…

Ron Weasley had settled into school life like many other first year students, other than he had been late to class on the very first day having gotten hopelessly lost within the corridors. Having grown up surrounded by magic he had the basics in regards to understanding the theory and Percy seemed quite adamant to give him some pointers if he needed it. He knew better though than to ask any of his family for anything more than the bare minimum. Last thing he needed was them sending a letter to his mother stating that he was already falling behind in class.

That didn't mean he had spare time to goof around, already he had made some good friends with his roommates. Seamus, Dean and Neville were all good blokes and he couldn't be much happier with his position within the Gryffindor first years. The four of them had gotten over whatever insecurities they may have had with one another over a couple bags of 'Bertie's Every Flavor Beans.' He still shuddered at the thought of the 'wet fur' one that Neville proclaimed to have gotten.

The one thing that kept the first year students on edge was the unused bed in their dormitory. At the foot of the bed was a trunk much like their own. While none of them would say it outright they all believed that the trunk belonged to the boy who had fled from the dining hall before getting sorted.

He had heard much in regards to Harry Potter as a child, Ginny was infatuated with him after all. He couldn't help but fear the possibility that her dreams would continue when she came to Hogwarts the following year. If that were the case then perhaps it would be best to send a letter to her in the coming weeks telling her just how hideous his peer was. Ron's younger sister deserved only the very best, not somebody like him.

Walking down to the Common Room he wasn't greeted by the usual hustle and bustle that he encountered but rather an eerie silence. He quickly found the reason was because the missing student had returned, as freakish looking as ever. He had only managed to catch a glimpse of Harry on the Hogwarts Express but now that he was standing in the middle of the Lion's Den Ron could get a good look.

It was repulsive.

He watched as Harry observed everybody in front of him, all looking at him in different manners. For the briefest of moments their eyes locked and Ron tore his gaze away, refusing to look at Harry anymore than he had to. Yet Professor Dumbledore had asked _him_ to take study notes to Harry? How could he talk to someone who looked like that?

Somebody however could and to the surprise of everybody there Neville Longbottom walked forwards, introducing himself to Harry and offering to show him where he would be staying. Harry, for lack of a better word, looked oddly surprised and turned to Hermione for guidance. Her only response was a shrug of the shoulders to which Harry sighed before signaling for Neville to lead the way.

The pair of them were given a wide berth as people parted ways not wanting to get in their way. Hushed whispers started spreading from one person to another as the two first year's made their way up the stairs. The female first years rushed towards Hermione, a dozen questions on each of their lips. Ron meanwhile opted to sit in a lounge chair close to the fireplace, it would seem he'd need to send a letter home sooner than he thought he would have to.

…

Harry sat atop the bed he now called his own, the mattress much softer than the one he had camped on in the Hospital Wing. Unlike then though it looked like he wouldn't be allowed to have much privacy; there were no sheets or covers preventing one bed from looking in on another. Theoretically, anybody could look in on him at any given time. That in and of itself was a frightening thought.

Harry looked up at Neville who was in the middle of explaining whose bed belonged to which student, the boy seemingly not phased at all by Harry's appearance. Once more this peaked Harry's curiosity more than anything. Hermione had explained before in the library how she felt somewhat in a similar situation to Harry but at the same time knew nothing about the way he felt. Her explanation had been heartfelt and it seemed she was genuinely interested in trying to make a friend than anything else.

Neville's feelings however were still unclear to Harry.

"Any questions?" asked Neville having concluded his introductory speech.

"Why did you offer to bring me up here?" asked Harry, being as blunt as possible. There was no point in beating around the bush at this point and Harry wanted an honest answer.

Neville stammered for a few seconds, clearly shaken up by the direct question. "Well Harry," he said slowly, taking the time to choose his next words carefully. "Every year my Gran takes me to the hospital to see my parents. When I was a baby they were attacked by a witch called Bellatrix Lestrange. The condition they're in…isn't pretty. I'm their son but they don't know my name and they scream out in pain when they sleep."

By this time Neville had begun to break down into tears and Harry understood that this was hard for him to deal with. Having never been in a situation before where he or someone he knew needed to be comforted he had no real idea what to do. "You were attacked by You-Know-Who only a few days before my family was," said Neville after having taken half a minute to compose himself. "I guess that's why."

"Thank you," said Harry, happy for Neville's honesty, and thankful that he had encountered a few people who actually accepted him. Perhaps this whole Hogwarts idea wouldn't be so bad after all.

…

Professor Dumbledore couldn't help but allow a gentle smile cross his lips as he watched Harry Potter enter the dining hall that evening for dinner. If anybody were watching they would think that the look meant that he was pleased that the young child had returned to their presence. Yet the smile didn't waver as Harry took his place at the end of the Gryffindor table, many of the other students shuffling away from him.

His grin did falter momentarily however as both Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger got too close to Harry to his liking. From what his staff had told him of the first years, Hermione had seemingly been placed into the wrong house and was already leagues above the rest of the class. This was astounding due to her lack of a magical upbringing and she would likely find herself encountering the wrong company when she got out of Hogwarts. It was a shame how they didn't teach in their classes how poorly Muggle born witches and wizards were treated once they had graduated. She'd be lucky to get a part time job selling clothes in Diagon Alley, if she was lucky.

Neville Longbottom meanwhile was on the other end of the spectrum in all categories. Born into a prestigious family with a background spanning more than a dozen generations, it was hard to imagine that his first bout of accidental magic had come only a handful of months before his Hogwarts acceptance letter. So far his teachers had informed him that he struggled with basic concepts and had even successfully managed to blow up his cauldron in his very first potions class. At the end of the day though it didn't matter how competent he was with a wand when he left Hogwarts. Neville would undoubtedly sit upon the Wizengamot, taking up the seat that his grandmother currently held until Neville became of age. With the vast wealth the Longbottom's had he would never have to work a day in his life if he so chose to do so.

Yet for some reason, two students of opposite upbringings had somehow found themselves attached to a student he had assumed would only have friends that he instructed to befriend him. It still wouldn't be impossible to get Ronald Weasley to befriend him but it would need to be done soon. He was sure he could find someway to make the youngest Weasley attending Hogwarts to bow to his whim.

He was Albus Dumbledore after all.

...


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Severus Snape couldn't help but sneer as the first year students scurried into his classroom. Of those sitting in front he severely doubted more than half a dozen students would be accepted after his fifth year with them. If they couldn't live up to them then they had nobody to blame but themselves and their own incompetence in the subtle art of Potion brewing.

He mildly froze however as a new face entered his classroom, one belonging to somebody that the Headmaster had asked him to pay 'extra attention' to. Harry Potter, the son of the woman he had loved, looked nothing like his mother and took on the form of his father. Provided of course his father had been subjected to every curse he knew of.

It was sickening.

And yet somehow, for some reason, Albus wanted him to subject the child to more unwanted attention and verbally berate him for not knowing things that were beyond the current curriculum. The child looked like he'd never heard a word of encouragement in his life.

Part of him wished to pry through the child's mind and make all of those that made Lily's child suffer pay the price. That was not his right though and he could only hope that whatever torments Harry had suffered over the years he did not seek vengeance for in years to come. If he did however, he wouldn't blame Harry by any means.

Beginning his lesson, Snape went over the instructions for today's practical lesson including how one would find themselves bedridden in the hospital wing were they to incorrectly brew their concoction. He added quite sarcastically that he expected everybody to walk away from this lesson unharmed.

Such a feat hadn't happened within his career.

As he watched the students begin to set up their cauldron and the ingredients, Snape hummed to himself all of the things which could likely go wrong in this class. Two stirs too many when the potion was azure in colour would result in it bubbling and were it to get in contact with flesh would cause boils to appear on the skin. Thirty grams more Flubberworm mucus would cause the potion to turn pink and release a purple smoke which would sting at the eyes over the next few hours if left untreated. So many possibilities…

"Waahh!" screamed one student as his cauldron began to overflow, thick red slime spilling over the sides.

And it would seem that Mister Longbottom had discovered a new way to screw up.

As the crude and vindictive Professor proceeded forward to berate the young child on his negligent behaviour his eyes glanced over the cauldron of Harry to see how the boy was proceeding. Somewhere deep down in the blackness of his heart he hoped that Harry showed the same aptitude for Potions as his mother had all those years ago. At least that way he would know that there was something of her still alive.

What he saw however surprised him to find that he hadn't even begun his potion but rather was hard at work preparing his ingredients, measuring out exact quantities to the gram. For those few ingredients which had needed to be cut up they had been done so with professionalism rivalled by Muggle chefs. Mandrake leaves had been finely sliced and the root had been cut into the centimetre pieces that the recipe called for.

Continuing on his way to berate Mister Longbottom, Severus Snape couldn't help but wonder if there were a way in which he could bolster Mister Potter's potential without revealing anything to Albus. The Headmaster wished for him to hinder Harry at any possible outlet. He wished to do the opposite.

Come the end of the class, everybody brought forward a vial of their concoction and it was easy to see that nobody had been able to produce the results required. Other than one student it would seem and young Draco seemed to hold no disdain for the Muggle born student who was already proving herself to be quite an exceptional witch in regards to Potions Crafting. Not that he would ever state so, it would ruin his reputation.

Harry was the last one to bring his vial forward, the rest of the students avoiding him like the plague and giving him a wide berth. Snape could see the isolation behind the boy's eyes but forced himself not to react as Harry provided his pale pink potion. If Snape were to hazard a guess, only sixty seconds left boiling would have produced a result that would even rival his. If all that Harry currently lacked was speed then that was something he could mould in his own time.

"Is everything alright sir?" asked Harry seeing that Professor Snape was inspecting his vial closely as the rest of the students packed up their belongings.

"For your first attempt at Potion Brewing I am quite impressed that you managed to get to this point," said Snape, his voice showing none of the joy he seemingly felt. "If you wish to continue in this room without injuring yourself or your peers you will need to not only keep up this quality of work but do so whilst retaining an optimal level of speed. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," said Harry meekly, lowering his head leaving Snape to wonder whether his words had actually hurt or hindered Harry's potential. He would have to wait and see.

Snape took a seat at his desk as he looked at the vials in front of him, mentally able to calculate where each and every student took a misstep to create the concoction in front of them. The loyalty to his own house would force him to pass the brews crafted by some of the first year students, he'd rather not receive Howlers from Pureblood families ranting about how it was impossible for their child to be terrible at potions. As tempting as it was he simply couldn't send a return letter stating how incompetent they were and be done with it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard screams outside of the Potions Lab. In a heartbeat he was on his feet striding directly towards the door. Slamming it open revealed Draco Malfoy on his backside, Hermione Granger on the ground with a red mark glowing on her cheek and Harry Potter standing upright with his wand pointed at Draco. "Inside...now," he scowled through gritted teeth.

...

Detention.

The concept wasn't foreign to Harry, far from it. During his early schooling he had found himself staying behind class much more than the rest of the children. As soon as a finger was pointed in his direction he effectively no longer had a foot to stand on and would just accept the punishment, whether he deserved it or not.

The punishment he would receive from his uncle for being late was always far worse.

Harry had no real idea what to expect from a detention held within a magical school. Undoubtedly it would be better than the lines he had written in the past on why his actions were improper behaviour. He also wondered who this Mister Filch character was that he was to be serving detention with. Having gone over his schedule it showed that he didn't teach anything in his current level so perhaps he taught something more advanced and part of Harry wondered whether he could pry some information out of the adult.

The soft meow of a cat caught Harry's attention. The boy shifted his gaze to see the feline in question looking at him. Slowly dropping to his knees, Harry beckoned the cat closer, clicking his fingers enticingly. Seconds ticked by before the cat slowly started strolling forward, yellow eyes fixated on Harry as it moved closer and closer. When it was close enough the cat sniffed at the outstretched appendage before edging close enough for Harry to scratch at it behind the ear.

"Miss Norris don't usually like students," said a gruff voice that sounded as if it had been gargling gravel. The person had startled Harry, the young boy pulling his hand away from the cat as if it had just burst into flames. In response, the newly acquainted Miss Norris meowed in dissatisfaction. "She's a stray ya see," explained who Harry could only assume was Mister Filch. "Found her when she was just a young'un', mother had abandoned her I reckon. Been with her since."

"That's very kind of you," said Harry with a weak smile. "I played with the stray dogs back home since I wasn't allowed my own pet, perhaps she smells that on me."

"Most kids here use her as target practice then squeal like pigs when she sinks her claws into them, some snot nosed brat even had the gall to try and petition for her to be put down. Can still hear the brat wailing."

"So what do you do here?" asked Harry as Miss Norris rubbed against his leg, begging for attention which he was more than happy to give.

"Clean and punish, punish and clean, ain't a pretty lifestyle but it's gotta be done," said Mister Filch as he took a seat next to Harry, a sigh of relief escaping him as he got off his feet.

"I thought it'd be easy to clean with magic," said Harry inquisitively.

"If I could actually use it that'd make my job that much better," stated Filch. "For generations the cleaner of this place had to simply wave a wand and all their problems were over. I got the job cause my folks pulled some strings because they wanted me to have a 'proper' position. Thing is though if I'm holed up here my whole life I can't embarrass them out there!"

Harry swallowed nervously at the raise in tone but paid attention to the information that Filch was leaking to him. From what he was saying it looked like it was a bad and/or embarrassing thing for the family if their kid didn't possess magic. This also told Harry that magic was hereditary but there were exceptions. Filch came from a magical background but had no magic and Hermione was the opposite in that she possessed magic but came from a non magical heritage. If the family was upset and effectively banished Filch from society by having him work as a janitor because of how society would view him, would magical society also frown upon Hermione because she didn't have a family name?

This also raised another question; did his family name amount to anything?

"Alright then, 'nough talking bout that rubbish," said Filch as he got to his feet, holding at his lower back for support. "Gonna have you wash these cabinets spotless."

"With what sir?" asked Harry as he stood up alongside the older man.

"With the…with the umm…damn it all, I left the water back at the office!" cursed Filch. "Tell ya what, scare the rest of your classmates how horrible my detention was and we'll call it square, savvy?"

"Savvy," replied Harry, not quite sure what the word meant but figuring it suited the situation.

"Good, now off with ya," said Filch with a flick of his wrist, sending Harry on his way. As he walked away, Harry looked over his shoulder at the man as he bent over to scratch Miss Norris. For someone who clearly had a vendetta against many people he was a good person deep down, it was just a shame though that such a happy lifestyle had been squeezed out of the man.

But then again, such was life.

...

Hermione chewed at her thumb as she waited for Harry to return from his detention, the boy having been punished for defending her. Arguably she hadn't had anything like that done for her by her peers both here and in her previous school. Only when a teacher would walk past would her classmates cease their taunting just to avoid getting into any sort of trouble.

Even before when Malfoy had clearly overstepped his boundaries, none of the other Gryffindor students had stood up for her. By all means they didn't approve of what Malfoy had done, the other girls actually having helped her to her feet when Harry and Draco had been summoned inside Snape's office. That just begged the question, why hadn't they helped? Unfortunately she felt she already knew the answer; they were afraid of Malfoy. However it couldn't be that simple, that was taking the essay question and putting down only your final conclusion with no proof of how you got to that point.

Like she did with many difficult questions, Hermione began to break it down.

Was he physically imposing? No, that wasn't the correct question considering they were in a magical school, playground fights weren't dealt with pushing and shoving. They were done with magic, thus Hermione reformed her question. Was he magically imposing? To her, she had to say that he was. Recalling Madam Pomfrey's quick lesson, Malfoy already had an advantage over her just from having been brought up in a magical community. While the rule of underage wizardry may have prevented him from actually performing magic that didn't mean that he didn't know how to perform a number of spells and curses that she wasn't even aware of.

Question number one, complete.

Next question, was the fear justified? Here Hermione knew that she was missing some information, none that she would likely be able to find in a library. One point for the fear being justified she could tell straight off the bat was the fact that Draco seemed to never travel alone, having a small crowd surrounding him at all times. Numbers advantage therefore was clear, nobody wanted to be caught up in a situation where it was three or more on one. Though the question then begged why did Draco have his posse with him at all times? Were they afraid of him just like she was, opting to be with him as opposed to against him, or was there something bigger at play going on?

Question number two, requires further investigation.

As a result of this, she found herself getting up from her chair in the common room and walking over to where Neville was slowly working his way through his Charms essay. She was moderately surprised by his handwriting; his work not looking like that of an eleven year old but rather of someone who was writing out a business deal. Shaking her head from side to side, Hermione focused on the reason why she had come over in the first place. "Neville, can I have a word?" she asked politely.

"Of course," said Neville as he gestured to the seat opposite him.

"You know what happened today right," stated Hermione, knowing full well that Neville had been there during the confrontation. "I need to know, why was Malfoy able to get away with that? I mean I'm sure he got punished by the teachers but nobody other than Harry retaliated, and he even came into the situation late."

Hermione braced herself for the answer, silently praying that Neville didn't say that she wasn't liked by her peers. "Malfoy," said Neville slowly as he put down his quill, "He is…powerful. Not like in he's the second coming of Merlin or anything but he has power."

"Power can mean many things Neville," said Hermione. "Is it just because he is strong?"

"Not that kind of power," said Neville as he scratched at the side of his head. "People are scared of what may happen if they stand up to him."

"And what may happen?"

"He'll…likely tell his father."

Hermione blinked once, twice and a third time before responding. "People are scared of Malfoy because they're afraid he's going to go running off to his father?"

"Yea."

"…That's the stupidest thing I've heard."

"Hermione, you don't understand," said Neville slowly.

"What don't I understand?"

"Malfoy's father…used to support You-Know-Who," said Neville in little more than a whisper. Hermione felt the words she was about to say catch in her throat before Neville continued in his hushed voice. "According to my Gran, Malfoy's father wasn't just a backer but was a part of his inner circle, killing people and all that. The only reason he escaped prison though was because he bribed and threatened his way to freedom."

"That's ridiculous," said Hermione in partial shock.

"That's not all," said Neville. "At the moment Malfoy's father works in the Ministry of Magic, apparently a really high up job there as well though I'm not sure what it is. What I do know though that he is powerful, very powerful. People are afraid of Draco because they're afraid of what his father could do to their family. Even if he isn't murdering or something like that, he still has a lot of money. A lot of money given to the wrong kind of people can make terrible, 'accidents' occur."

"So that gives him the right to bully anyone who gets in his way?"

"It doesn't," said Harry, startling both Hermione and Neville, neither of them having expected the young boy to have returned from his punishment so soon. Ignoring their momentary confusion, Harry continued. "Bullies only do what they do when they know they'll get away with it, installing fear into their victims to prevent them from ratting them out. Hermione, had I not come out and attacked Malfoy, what would you have done?"

As much as it pained Hermione, the ginger haired witch was unable to answer the question having no real clue what she would have done. Reporting him to the teacher was the only feasible answer she could think of but what would that have accomplished? He would have gotten a gentle slap on the wrist before being let out to traumatize the next student.

"So what do you propose?" asked Neville.

"We get strong," said Harry, his eyes sharpening behind his glasses.

"How?"

"The library," answered Harry, his voice deadly serious. "Hermione, the other day you saw just how many books there are; how many of them do you think actually have anything to do with what we may study here?"

Indeed Hermione had been floored by the sheer content available in the library, rows upon rows of ancient tombs far outweighing the library she had visited often with her parents. It also wasn't like there many restrictions on what you could look at (other than the restricted section of course) but a first year student had no difficulty grabbing a book far more advanced than what their current curriculum desired.

"You're rather passionate about this, aren't ya?" said Neville having noticed the distinct difference in Harry's personality from the other times they had interacted.

"Bullies just…bring out the worst in me," said Harry, his features lightening as he became visibly less tense. He did however flinch as Neville got up from his chair and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright," said the young Longbottom. "I don't like fighting any more than you do but I think it's better to know how to defend ourselves in case the need arises."

Having been struck earlier in the day, Hermione could only agree with what was being said as she got up from her chair and rested her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Just so long as this doesn't interfere with our studies," said Hermione, her statement causing both Harry and Neville to chuckle lightly before they took their seats and started planning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

It had been Hermione's idea to take things slowly as to not draw any suspicion from any of the higher ups. Straight away Harry understood what she was saying, right now a lot of the castle's eyes were on him; teachers, Prefects and even the Headmaster. Neville had been a touch confused by what was going on and thus Hermione and Harry explained how Dumbledore had forbidden Flitwick from offering any assistance for extra curricular activities.

Having been a part of the wizarding world for far longer than both Harry and Hermione combined, Neville gave them some insight into just who Dumbledore was, or at least who he was according to his grandmother. Madame Longbottom, they learned, had sat on the Wizengamot for quite a number of years and as such watched powers shift and slide from source to source with Dumbledore at the head, manipulating proceedings to his liking. Every now and again a policy would slip through but that was mostly due to the backlash that he would receive were he to argue against whatever was being pushed forward. If it turned into a magnificent flop however then he would be the first to try and reinstate everything to the way it had been before.

Harry and Hermione quickly began to know how much Neville knew of the political world. Since he hadn't shown any magic until a late age he had spent much of his youth learning the ins and outs. To Hermione it was fascinating listening to how houses, in Neville's simple terms, were labeled under the categories of light, neutral or dark. Harry however was quick to disagree, stating that nothing was ever that black or white, or in this case light or dark.

Now it was Neville's turn to adjust as Harry gave an insight to the Muggle playground. While he didn't go into explicit details, Harry stated that bullies couldn't all be labeled under dark as a whole. While the idea of comparing Muggle children to Pureblood houses seemed bizarre, Neville was enraptured as Harry explained how the leader of the bullies would be listed as the sole 'dark' child. Once more, Neville found it obscure how Harry related this sole bully to Voldemort in how they would both have followers who would listen to everything they said.

Then for Neville it got difficult to swallow as Harry started listing possibilities as to why people would join up with these 'dark' leaders. Some would do so because they were dark themselves. Others because they had once been the ones subjected to the torments plagued upon them and either sought to bring the same suffering on others or did so to avoid it being done to them.

It was Hermione who said that it was likely identical for those balancing in the light category and agreeing with Harry that nothing was ever as clear as it seemed. She summarized that at the end of the day the people they were looking out for most of all were none other than themselves at that people would do anything to survive atop the pecking order.

Feeling he needed to clear something up, Neville used the example of how Ron Weasley had whispered to him during the Sorting Ceremony that there wasn't a single witch or wizard in Slytherin that was good. While he hadn't told the red-haired boy at the time he was more than glad to tell his friends that this was an outright lie. He used Daphne Greengrass as an example and how her family were neutral for the better part, having no clear alliances to either extreme during the previous war and simply choosing to stay out of the firing line. Likewise the Zabini family had been selling rare potions during the battle, profiting from the chaos around them without actually aligning themselves to either the light or the dark.

Nearing the end of the weekend the three of them had almost constructed an entire table of their peers and who would likely approach them and what their purposes would be. At the end of their seven year tenure the relationships they had constructed would be crucial and Neville had quickly explained how both the heirs to the Longbottom and Potter line would be a boon to any alliance. He also said that it was highly likely they would be summoned to negotiations from both sides at some point.

Their family names just carried that much weight.

It would be after one of these discussions that Harry found himself being summoned to the Headmaster's office. The sharp looks from Neville had instantly informed him that Harry needed to keep his game face on. Being escorted up to the office meanwhile had Harry pondering which face was more appropriate for confronting the elderly man with. Since his pride had been trampled on most his life he had no qualms with what he was about to do.

"Ah Harry, thank you for joining me," said Dumbledore as Harry took the seat in front of him. "May I interest you in a lemon drop?"

"No thank you," said Harry meekly as he looked at his shoes, refusing to look the Headmaster in the eyes.

Straight away this got Albus curious but after the first time they had met where Harry had painted the walls with his insides he believed that this was the true Harry Potter sitting before him. When confronted with authority he would retreat into himself. Good. This was something he could use to his advantage in the years to come.

"What have you been doing with your weekend?" he asked.

"I've…I've been studying," said Harry.

"Harry, the first month has yet to pass and your first lot of assignments will not be due until the end of next week, you should have spent the weekend outdoors with your friends," said Dumbledore.

For a moment Harry had to give credit to Dumbledore, the mere fact that he knew exactly when the first lot of assignments were due showed that he had a good knowledge of what was going on in the castle. At least from a learning perspective. "I don't have any friends," said Harry, seemingly crawling deeper into himself.

Albus paused before speaking and had to wonder what he had been seeing then at the dining table during lunch and dinner when Harry sat alongside Miss Granger and Mister Longbottom. "What about those you sit with during meals?" he asked.

"Hermione and Neville, they put up with me cause they know that I'm good at studying. That's all I'll ever be good for!" said Harry as he wiped away imaginary tears.

"Now now, I know for a fact that it's your first broom riding lesson tomorrow and if you're father was anything to go by I imagine that you'll be a natural," said Albus.

"You think so?" said Harry, hope in his voice as he finally lifted his head.

"I know so," said Albus. "Now off with you, spend the rest of the day with your peers and make some friends."

Harry said nothing more as he hopped off the seat and made his way towards the exit. Lacing his fingers, Dumbledore pondered how best to play with the situation that was in front of him. It seemed as if Harry's accomplices were merely using him to further their own gain, rather Slytherin of the two Gryffindor students but arguably for the best. Were Harry truly became friends with Madam Longbottom's grandson then the power would likely shift in the Wizengamot. Goodness knew what she would do when that woman wished to give her grandson the edge. Likely him and Harry becoming friends and perhaps allies was on the list of things she wished to accomplish. With that kind of backing behind her things could swing in any direction she wished.

That could not be allowed to happen. For the greater good, everything needed to be perfect.

…

"What did Dumbledore want?" asked Hermione as she and Neville welcomed Harry to the small table they had secured in the common room.

"He just wanted to know what I was doing over the weekend," said Harry. "I told him I was studying which he seemed kinda upset about."

"He was upset about you studying?" clarified Hermione. "That's just ridiculous."

"Actually it makes a lot more sense than you think," said Neville before leaning towards the centre of the table, Hermione and Harry mimicking his motion before he spoke in nothing more than a whisper. "Like how other houses may try to align themselves with us, Dumbledore wants to ensure that Harry allies himself with the 'right' families. Basically all the families that listen to what Dumbledore says."

"So how does my studying make him upset?" asked Harry.

"Because he doesn't want you to think for yourself," answered Hermione having figured out Neville's train of thought. "To most of the students here, Professor Dumbledore is the elderly grandfather figure whom everyone is welcome to see and discuss matters with. A big thing such as an alliance would undoubtedly be something that he expects you to go to him with before you make a decision."

"He's trying to fix the board before the game even begins," said Neville. "You didn't even get a chance to be sorted Harry but you told us that Dumbledore said you were a Gryffindor. Where do most of the houses that align themselves with Dumbledore reside?"

"Gryffindor," said Harry as he tossed a glance to the side. "What are the odds that some of the students here are reporting directly to Dumbledore my activities?"

"For the moment, probably no one," said Neville. "If he wants to know something however all he needs to do is ask and the answer will basically be given to him by anyone here without question. Everyone trusts him."

"Except us," said Harry before letting out a sigh realizing what a troublesome situation the three of them were in. "So what's our next move?"

"You told Dumbledore you were studying, so we study," said Hermione. "Other than our classes we need to work out where best our specific fields will take us. As the only one with a proper wizard background, Neville, we're going to need you to be in charge of what parties we should do deals with in the future and what effects they may have. At this stage we can't even trust the other students here so we may have to look further abroad into the other houses."

"I can do that. I take it then we won't be going either light or dark."

"Neutral is best for the moment," confirmed Hermione. "If we stay under the radar as much as you say then that is the best option for now. I can work our way through the current curriculum, if we can manage to have a majority of our assignments all done by the Christmas then we've got extra time to kill at the start of next year on other topics."

"That's not a bad idea," said Neville. "How are you going to get the information though?"

"I imagine a couple of sickles here and there can get me the information I need," said Hermione. "Provided either of you have got some money."

"I've got more than enough," said Harry.

"You're going to bribe people?" asked Neville.

"No, I'm going to purchase information, there's a difference," said Hermione.

"If you say so," said Neville.

"What am I going to do?" asked Harry.

"You're going to be our soldier," said Hermione causing both boys to look at her with curious eyes. "Think of us as bounty hunters for a minute. At the moment Neville is the one brokering contracts and negotiations, choosing who to hunt down and when. When that time comes, who's going to be our champion hunter?"

"That was a really bad comparison," said Harry causing Neville to chuckle while Hermione puffed out her cheeks in frustration. "I get what you're saying though but I can't go back to Professor Flitwick for help."

"Then you're going to be needing our help, but before you try anything you'll need to study the spells back to front, the wand movements, the incantations. We're not talking about stinging hexes either here. If you're fighting on our behalf then you're going to be fighting for keeps."

"So if Neville's negotiating and I'm fighting, what role does that make you?" asked Harry.

"The public face, the Queen if you will," said Hermione.

"Do bounty hunters have a queen?"

"Who knows?"

The boys' laughter drowned out Hermione's groans of frustration.

…

This sadly just seemed to be the way that the world worked for Harry as he found himself marching behind his Head of House through stone corridors. Had he decided to stay on the ground instead of being goaded into Draco's play he wouldn't have been in this situation. The vicious words weren't what had gotten him into the air however, it was the Rememberall that belonged to Neville.

Arguably, Harry wasn't sure why he had gone airborne but he just felt that he needed to protect Neville's present. Was this what friends did for one another? Would Neville had done something similar for him if he required his assistance?

Harry would just have to wait to find out.

Now though he had more pressing matters to deal with, namely the fact that McGonagall had spotted him flying whilst being instructed to remain grounded. The stern woman knocked politely on the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom before pushing the door open.

"C..Can I h..help you?" stuttered Professor Quirrell.

Harry ignored the rest of the conversation as he focused on Quirrell. He wasn't sure what it was about the jittery man but everything always seemed a touch off, and he always sensed a light bit of pain across the scars that were wizard made. He had theorized that the nervous teacher had charms planted on himself that warded off dark magic. Considering he was quite literally covered in dark magic it only made sense that those scars would hurt when around him.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood," said Professor McGonagall, snapping Harry back into reality. The boy looked to be in about his fourth or fifth year of Hogwarts and Harry recognized him from the common room. Surprisingly, Oliver didn't seem that displeased with what was standing in front of him, a plus in Harry's book.

"How'd you do?" said Harry meekly wondering just what was going on.

"Wood, I have found you a Seeker," said Minerva, a broad smile lit on her face.

"A Seeker?" said Wood in joyous disbelief.

"What am I?" asked Harry.

"I'm putting you on the house Quidditch team," said Professor McGonagall, her excitement barely contained. Clearly this was something she wanted to happen dearly.

Harry, meanwhile, had heard of Quidditch, with Ron as a roommate it was pretty difficult not to. He had rarely been selected for a team before, even in physical education class he was always either the last selected or overlooked entirely. The mere idea that he had been handpicked for something was unbelievable. Wood hadn't even seen his level of skill but he still wanted to use Harry on the team.

It was that word right there that caused Harry to swallow a lump in his throat.

They wanted to use him.

They didn't care about him as a person; they cared about him because he was supposedly good at a sport he'd never played.

"I refuse."

"I beg your pardon," said Professor McGonagall fearing her hearing had failed and that she had heard something ridiculous.

"I don't want to play," said Harry defiantly.

Minerva was opening and closing her mouth resembling that of a goldfish as she struggled to comprehend what was just happening. "If the boy doesn't want to play we shouldn't force him," said Wood, Harry suddenly finding that he liked this guy. A new experience if there ever was one.

It would not change his decision however.

"Now if you'll excuse me I've got to return to class," said Harry dismissing himself as he turned on his heel and started walking away, not even taking a moment to look back on what he had just given up.

…

 **Hope you enjoyed. Not sure when the next update will be having just moved states and all that. Hopefully it won't be too far off. Until next time.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

…

Sitting in the library, Harry was engrossed in 'Magic Inside Us: How To Bring Out Your Full Potential'. Just the fundamentals were well beyond anything they were expected to learn over the school year, perhaps not even throughout school in general. Next to him were several other books he had purged from parts of the library where few likely dared to tread. Not because the information was worthless, but rather the knowledge trapped within the literal tombs were not pivotal to the curriculum, or at least that was what Hermione had gathered from talks with older students.

It really was amazing what a few Sickles could do here and there.

Almost as if a sixth sense was triggered, Harry's eyes shot up as three of his peers closed in on him. While he was sure they wouldn't do anything too reckless in the library he couldn't help but grip onto his wand just a touch tighter than before. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps," said Draco Malfoy as he crossed his arms over his chest, Crabbe and Goyle standing on either side of him like a pair of bodyguards. "Word around the halls is that you refused to become the youngest Seeker in years."

"What about it?" asked Harry as he closed his book and stood up, his wand now clearly visible.

"No need to be so defensive," said Malfoy. "We're just here to talk."

"Fine, then talk."

"Well if the rumours are to be believed then you gave up a once in a lifetime opportunity. Had you taken the position I can almost guarantee that you would have had people on the outside very interested, perhaps even scouters would have come to Hogwarts to watch you play."

"Somehow I don't think any team is going to want me as their poster boy," interrupted Harry.

"Perhaps," said Malfoy with a shrug of his shoulders. "Still, who knows what could have been? Maybe you made the right decision, maybe you did not. Down the line I'm sure though when the time comes you'll make the right decision."

"We'll just have to wait and see then won't we."

"Indeed, be seeing you around Potter," said Draco as he started to walk away, his two buddies following suit like loyal henchmen. Harry meanwhile bit at the inside of his lip as he tried to figure out just what had been accomplished by the three Slytherin boys. They had clearly come up to the library for the sole purpose of talking to him and other than their brief chat there had been no conflict. Which considering that at one point Harry had knocked him down he had expected some kind of retribution.

Had this just simply been a reconnaissance mission? In the few words they had shared had Malfoy managed to get what he was after or was this merely the beginning of something far grander?

…

"Neville," said Hermione as she looked up from her homework. "I know I might be going on a bit of a tangent to everything we've learned up to this point but what's the point of our wands?"

"Our wands?" repeated Neville.

"Well I mean almost every student here had a bout of accidental magic at some point before we even got our letters to Hogwarts," said Hermione vividly recalling her unexplainable situation. "We didn't use a wand then, so why should we need to use one now?"

"I remember Professor Flitwick informed me of a duellist he once faced who was able to cast small shield charms with just a twirl of his finger," said Harry as he inserted himself into the conversation.

"Well it's not like our wands aren't unnecessary," said Neville. "They just make everything easier."

"Easier?" said Harry and Hermione at the same time.

"Well look at Hogwarts as an example, apparently the courses haven't changed in decades. The only one that has is the Defence class but that's because a new teacher has been coming in every year for ages. Magical Britain is almost suspended in a never ending circle, all because it is the easiest route to follow. We get taught how to cast spells with a wand but never look at alternate ways of doing so, just because we have found the easiest way to do so," explained Neville. "Think of the levitating spell that Professor Flitwick is teaching us at the moment. We have the wand movement, the incantation and the intent of making something float. Straight away we are led to believe that all of those elements are necessary in order to make something float. I remember Gran giving me books telling me that it's possible just to do things with just the intent but with each part we take away it gets more difficult."

"So we have to have intent above all else," summarised Harry.

"So theoretically we could do the wand movements and the pronunciation perfect but if we didn't want whatever we're pointing at to float then it won't work," said Hermione.

"I guess so, nobody these days really tries anything different because they already know the easiest way," said Neville.

"So how are we going to do this?" asked Harry, knowing full well that now they had discussed this that they were going to attempt to put it into practice.

"We've got a free period tomorrow morning, meet me down the Charms corridor after breakfast but make sure that we don't all leave at once, don't want to raise any more suspicions than necessary," said Hermione. Harry and Neville both nodded in understanding before they each returned to their individual tasks, knowing that they were going to attempt something ridiculously difficult tomorrow based simply off a theory.

A theory they were determined to prove right.

…

It wasn't uncommon for students to mess around with what they had been taught, the Weasley Twins were already infamous for the way they put their knowledge to practical use. When students did put what they had learned into action however it did help bolster their respective teacher's morale. So when Professor Flitwick made his way towards his classroom only to hear one of the first incantations he taught children he couldn't help but be a little intrigued as to what was going on.

Pushing the closed door open no more than a slither he peered inside to see two first year Gryffindor's practising a spell they had only just been taught the wand movement for. Pushing their abilities to this extent already meant they truly were ploughing through their studies. If this was the stage they were at practicality wise he saw no reason in scrapping their written report on the subject and allowing them to learn the next spell in the curriculum.

"Focus clearly, Neville," instructed Hermione.

The boy in question took a deep intake of air before slowly releasing it. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said using the respective wand movement, the book he was pointing at slowly hovering into the air, making the Charms Professor all giddy inside. Part of him wanted to charge right in and award points but believed that it would be wiser to wait and see if anything else surprised him.

He was not disappointed.

Hermione Granger was the next to act and he knew he could expect great things from the young witch. Never before had he given so many points to a first year student before Christmas but the amount of knowledge that the young girl had at her disposal warranted every point that he gave her. The mere fact that she came from a Muggle upbringing only made him more proud of what she could one day accomplish. If she were to come to Hogwarts after her studies asking for a job he would not be the only one who would back her for a position.

He watched as she stepped up to where Neville had previously been standing and looked at the book that lay bare in front of her. She whipped out her wand and did the 'Swish and Flick' method that he had only written on a blackboard for them thus far. It would seem that they had gone through some of their peers in the upper year levels to learn what was required of them.

As Hermione did the wand movement once more Filius bit at his inner lip as he tried to figure out why young Miss Granger was having difficulty. Once more she did the wand movement, perfectly he had to add, without much success. It was only then that he understood why Hermione was having far more difficulty than she should have been.

She was trying to cast silently.

Nonverbal magic wasn't taught until the sixth year, the mere idea that first year students were even attempting something so difficult was mind boggling. His mind however was indeed boggled at the sight of Miss Granger performing the wand movement once more and the book in front of her began to float. It was clear though that it was putting a strain on her magical power, the amount of concentration required to channel magical energy in such a way was highly taxing on the body.

So it was to no surprise that Hermione collapsed from exhaustion, thankfully into the arms of Neville Longbottom who seemed to sense that something had been amiss. Sensing he had seen enough, Fillius pushed open the door fully and stepped inside only to realize that there had been a third student practising the Levitation Charm.

In hindsight he shouldn't have been surprised to see Harry Potter training with his friends. He was also well aware of what the young prodigy was capable of if he put his mind to it, the amount of raw power pumping through the eleven year old was beyond comprehension. Despite that he couldn't help but allow his jaw to drop at the sight of young Mister Potter sitting in what looked like a meditative position atop one of the school desks.

A desk that just so happened to be two feet off the ground.

The Charms professor found words failing him as he struggled to comprehend what was happening in front of him. Here was an eleven year old boy channelling his magic in such a way that most adults wouldn't even attempt. Even were he to tell any other member of the faculty they likely wouldn't believe him.

By now the other two Gryffindor students had noticed that their self-study had been interrupted but if they were saying anything to the small teacher he didn't hear any of it. Sharp eyes quickly started to notice beads of sweat forming at Harry's brow and he whipped out his wand as a precautionary manner as the desk began to wobble slightly. It was clear to Fillius that Harry was straining himself as the boy had managed to get his balancing act back under control.

"Professor," said Hermione only just now able to get the Charms teacher's attention.

"You three are excluded from my written assignments," he managed to say, still uncertain of the events going on about him. "I will teach you an illusionary charm to make whatever book you read during class look like the required text. I cannot preach to you enough the importance of keeping all of this secret, even to me."

Neville and Hermione shared a look amongst one another as the diminutive teacher slowly walked out of the room, uncertain of just what they were getting in to. Even the Professor had to admit that they had no real understanding of what would befall them if another teacher discovered them. They had taken the simplest of spells and were using it in a way that would confound even the greatest of Magical Theory Scholars.

They weren't just learning how to walk before the crawl; they saw how people walked, didn't like it and decided to fly instead.

It just made no sense.

Professor Flitwick would not arrive to his first class of the day, the students would find him gazing out of a window as if seeing the world with freshly opened eyes.

…

"Down the hatch," said Harry trying to prep himself up before he swallowed the contents of the vial he had been handed. After having been taken what many students would describe as putrid puddle water for the better part of two months the taste was rather tolerable these days. Still didn't mean that it tasted awful but compared to the scraps he got back at his relatives house it was respectable.

"How are you feeling?" asked Madam Pomfrey as she took the empty container away from him. "You've been taking these potions weekly for six weeks now, doubtful that you wouldn't feel anything from that as a result."

"I've been feeling good," said Harry as he ran his fingers over his arms, ignoring the scars that littered his skins to focus more on the muscles. For the first time in his life there was a touch of plumpness in his body as opposed to the skin and bones he had been prior. The day he was no longer able to see his ribs when he dressed in the morning was a glorious one.

"And are you sure you're fine missing out on the Halloween feast?" asked the resident nurse.

"Yea," said Harry solemnly. While his relatives may not have celebrated the holiday like every other family on the street they were quite adamant in reminding him that it was on that forsaken holiday they were burdened with his presence. Years of verbal harassment, not to mention the physical, had sapped whatever happiness could be preserved from the celebratory event. "One dinner without food isn't going to kill me."

"Such lack of self preservation however will be the death of me," said Madam Pomfrey. "While this may be listed as going against regulations a few students do eventually find out where the kitchens are. Instead of gallivanting on a wild goose chase I might as well inform you that they are located in the basement under the Great Hall, simply tickle the pear."

"Thank you," said Harry as he got off the bed he had been sitting on before making his way towards the exit. Madam Pomfrey meanwhile just placed her hands on her hips as she wondered what more she could do for the boy. She had consulted with a number of her friends in the medical industry about the skin issue and how if she was able to perhaps fade the scars away somehow that it would help with his confidence issues. Many of them had agreed on such tactics but none of them truly knew how to go about fixing scars created by the killing curse. Every other victim of the spell was dead and unmarked, not once before had a person struck down by the vile curse actually been left with a scar or burn or anything signalling they had been hit.

While an expert in her field, Madam Pomfrey honestly had no real idea how to go about treating Harry, provided he actually wanted to be treated. It was incredibly difficult to get a read on the kid at times.

She had heard from Professor Flitwick on how he had discovered Harry seemingly performing a first year charm both wandlessly and, assumingly, wordlessly. While at first she had been taken aback, something she was finding happening more and more often, she somehow wasn't surprised. She had started constructing theories that perhaps the strength of the killing curse cast at him as a child had actually been absorbed as opposed to rebounded as everyone seemed to believe. Sure, nobody truly knew what happened that night other than Harry and survived and You-Know-Who was gone. Dumbledore theorized that Love had protected Harry from death. She believed something else had, something that in return had ravaged Harry's flesh but spared his life.

Arguably she could theorize for years and get no closer to the truth. Chances were nobody would ever truly know. What she did know however was that Harry had an unnaturally high level of both power and raw talent, likely as a result from being attacked as an infant.

Her musings were shattered as a silvery whisp burst through the floor before moulding into the shape of a phoenix; Albus Dumbledore's patronus. " _A troll has entered Hogwarts, keep any patients in your care there until this situation has been dealt with,"_ said the message before the white bird vanished.

Thankfully, she had no patients in her care at the moment. One however had just left.

"Harry!"

With speed she had no idea she currently possessed, Madam Pomfrey burst out of the infirmary with wand in hand knowing full well that there was a chance that she would end up confronting a troll. It didn't matter how such a creature had stumbled into the castle all she knew was that there was a student with no knowledge of the danger he was in.

As she sprinted down a corridor she wondered just what kind of fight she'd be able to put up against a beast. Her repertoire of spells had minimal damaging magic amongst her spells though she had successfully gotten an OWL for Defence Against the Dark Arts but such knowledge had been obtained decades prior. Hopefully she would not have to try and remember her lessons from an age ago.

She paused in her search to catch her breath and pondered which way would be best to traverse. She had no real idea which way Harry would have taken on his quest to the kitchens and likely would have taken the longest route possible in order to avoid making contact with any other students who would have been returning from the feast early. That could mean that he could have taken any direction imaginable.

An animalistic roar had her praying that the boy hadn't gone the way she feared.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Poppy charged forward with wand in hand hoping that the worst case scenario hadn't come through. The clanging of metal on the ground informed her that there was indeed something going on just around the corner. She was also aware that there was a sudden drop in temperature and prayed that it wasn't just chills coursing through her veins.

Skidding around the corner, Poppy barely managed to prevent herself from screaming as she saw the body of the troll sprawled out in front of her and she instinctively raised her wand. It would be a couple of seconds later that she realized that such an act was unnecessary.

Composing herself, she looked at just what had happened.

First thing was the floor was slippery, a thin yet thick veil of ice coated the ground which had been how the beast had been grounded. Next was one of the suits of armour had been removed from its pedestal, metal chunks of armour scattered across the floor. The axe it had possessed however was embedded into the ice, having successfully separated the head of the troll from the rest of its body, thick red blood pooling over the ice by the gallon.

Sitting with his back resting against the corpse was one Harry Potter; his right arm clutched at his ribs and instincts took over as the nurse traversed the difficult terrain to make her way to where the young boy sat. When she got to him however whatever damage was caused to his ribs were overshadowed by what had happened to his other arm. From the elbow to his fingers chunks of ice covered the skin, a few patches of flesh had even been frozen solid.

Madam Pomfrey slowly pieced everything together as she cast a mild warming charm over the limb, knowing full well that were she to try and heat it up to quickly she may cause irreparable damage. There were many things she was capable of. Regrowing limbs was not one of them.

Looking to the side, the nurse could see Mister Potter's wand sprawled across the other side of the corridor and she could only assume he had been disarmed, possibly when he had been struck if the clutching at ribs was any indication. In desperation the child cast a spell to freeze the floor using his arm in replacement of a wand to make the movements but had done so incorrectly, hence why his arm was so badly damaged. The magic had still been cast but had had some drawbacks that would take her hours to fix.

Then there was the decapitation of the troll, the axe having made a clean and precise cut with enough force to slay the beast in a heartbeat. "Who knew…the levitation charm…would be so handy," said Harry, startling Madam Pomfrey as he struggled to string words together. Instead of reprimanding him for talking in his condition the nurse took this into account as she put the final piece of the puzzle into play. A simple first year charm had been cast at the axe and Harry had used it in such a way to behead his foe before collapsing next to his fallen enemy.

As other staff members rushed into the corridor, signalled by Professor McGonagall's scream of shock, Madam Pomfrey had the feeling that somehow the hardest part of tonight would be explaining all of this to the rest of the faculty.

…

 **Hope you enjoyed.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Whatever early diagnostics Madame Pomfrey had made in regards to the damages that Harry had suffered were well and truly overshadowed by the true extent of damage he had done to himself. Three ribs had been broken, one nearly completely shattered after further examination. Severe bruising to a number of internal organs. Roughly a pint of blood lost during the confrontation with the troll.

Still though it was nothing compared to the frozen arm.

At first glance it had seemed as if Harry had merely frozen over the exterior of his limb but it was far worse than that, the magic having sunk deep into his muscles rendering them frozen solid. It was a sheer miracle that the bone hadn't been affected as well. A week had passed and Harry still remained in the Hospital Wing, his treatment nearly complete but with constant warnings of how to correctly prevent any further damage in the short term.

Last thing Madame Pomfrey wanted to see anytime soon was Harry returning to the bedside for something he had done to himself.

During his time incapacitated he had had a number of guests, both from the faculty and from his peers. One of the first to see him once he was deemed fit to receive visitors had been Professor Dumbledore who had been highly upset with the child, feeling that he had had the troll completely incapacitated and thus there had been no reason for Harry to have killed it. Harry had retorted that there would have been no reason to kill it had it not been in the castle in the first place. Twice more he had been visited by the Headmaster during his tenure in the ward, both times being reprimanded for taking the life of another creature. Each time Harry showed no remorse for his actions.

Professor Flitwick had also visited him early on during his stay and went through a step by step blow with Harry, giving pointers in where he could have looked at alternatives and the consequences of each possible scenario. Of his teachers, Harry was most happy to detail his experience fully to the diminutive professor. When Professor Flitwick had asked about how he had known of the spell which had been used to freeze the floor Harry had divulged how he had been reading advanced spells in the library. Professor Flitwick didn't berate him for studying far beyond his level but requested that he made proper steps in ensuring that he was confident with the spell before even attempting to cast it.

Of his peers, Hermione and Neville had come and visited every day, the witch often coming with her arms full of notes that Harry had missed out on during the day's lessons. While Neville was adamant that Harry should have just been spending that time resting there was only so much staring at the opposite wall he could take and was grateful for the paperwork to gaze at.

The Weasley twins had also approached him, wanting to know whether or not once he mastered his floor freezing spell (or at least until the repercussions were kept to a minimum) if he would join them on some of their misadventures. Harry quickly saw that they merely wished to use him for the spell he knew to be used as an escape mechanism, preventing anybody giving chase from behind and thus refused them flatly. He was pleasantly surprised that they took the rejection with a smile, stating clearly that if he ever changed his mind that they would be waiting.

He would have to weigh that one up in the future.

There had been a smattering of well-wishers and those congratulating him for taking out the dangerous creature. Nobody though seemed to have any real clue as to how the troll had entered the building in the first place, or at least nobody was telling him. Hopefully that would be his last wrestle with a creature far larger and more powerful than him for the foreseeable future.

Nobody really knew when Harry would return to normal life, or as normal as possible for him. Therefore it had been quite a surprise for everyone when they were enjoying their breakfast one morning and the solid doors were pushed open to reveal Harry standing there, his presence almost radiating pure power.

While he wasn't sure who started it, the noise indicated it came from the Gryffindor table and was completely foreign to Harry, never having heard the sound directed at him in the past. An applause. It started off as a single entity before it picked up in pace and volume, a number of other such noises echoing throughout the hall as every table seemed to radiate gratitude towards him.

Harry had no idea how to accept this.

He stood there, dumbstruck for a few seconds before his eyes sharpened, analysing those applauding him. Were they trying to suck up to him? Was this all a big ploy? Or, as absurd as it sounded, were they genuinely grateful for the deed he had done for the school?

Only when he took his seat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione did the clapping come to a complete stop while he still tried to figure out what had just happened. "Can anybody clue me in on why I was welcomed like a member of royalty?" he asked those around him.

"As grandiose as Hogwarts is, at the end of the day it is still a boarding school and as such, full of teenagers who just love to gossip," said Hermione. "Dumbledore tried to hush up the whole thing but whispers started spreading and I think it got to the stage where you rescued another student, tore the head of the troll off with your bare hands and drunk the blood from its skull."

"The weird thing is I cannot tell if you are being serious or pulling my leg," said Harry completely unsure of what she was telling him.

"Some of the rumours did get over exaggerated," acknowledged Neville. "Some were embellished, some were undersold but at the end of the day, the truth that you fought a troll to the death and came out the victor did spread like fiendfyre."

"Politically speaking, is that a good thing?" asked Harry.

"Perhaps," shrugged Neville. "Now that you're out of the hospital wing I imagine that we will have a couple of proposals being thrown our way in the coming days, perhaps even hours. The fact that you were even applauded by a number of the Slytherin Table on your way in indicates that you've impressed them, something I thought was impossible. We will need to be ready for anything that gets thrown our way."

Harry simply nodded as he dug into his breakfast. Deep down he suddenly had the feeling that the troll was only the start of something much larger.

…

Daphne Greengrass couldn't help but smile as she continued to eat at her meal that morning, her usual icy disposition effectively having been shattered for the moment. Considering it had only been the first few months of the first year of her study at Hogwarts she had already gotten a reputation for being difficult to deal with, to put things lightly. The fact that there actually was a smile on her face mildly intimidated all of those in close proximity.

All bar one.

"What's got you so upbeat?" asked Tracy, nudging her friend softly in the ribs in order to make sure she was paying attention.

"What, I can't have a nice day every once in a while?" asked Daphne innocently.

"No," answered Tracy. "At least not without good reason. Face it, a minute ago you were prepared to face the day with the same stoic attitude as yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the…"

"Alright, I get your point," said Daphne, a small scold that was more familiar to the others on the table sending a sign of reassurance that hell wasn't freezing over.

"Daph, face it, the past week since we heard that one of our peers, the seemingly shy guy that nobody would even speak to, was put into the hospital you've been worried. You had a right to be so! We got told there was a troll in the dungeons and where does our common room reside? In the dungeon. Where were the prefects leading us? To the dungeon. You had a right to be scared, all of us were, some were just better at hiding it than others."

The Greengrass heiress giggled slightly at that, vividly recalling how on the walk back to the dungeons any minor creak or bang had had one Draco Malfoy nearly staining the tiles with his urine. Nobody had actually taken him seriously for a while after that but thanks to the seemingly hereditary golden tongue his father had given him he had managed to talk his way off of being the biggest wuss. That title now belonged to Goyle who at the time didn't even seem to realize the potential danger they were in.

Go figure.

"What are you getting at?" asked Daphne.

"One of our peers, a boy no older than us, managed to take down a creature which had our Defence teacher running for his life. You don't want to know the rumors, you want the truth and nothing but the truth. You want to know just how Harry Potter killed a troll when earlier that day we had only just learned how to make feathers float," said Tracy, having no reason to believe that her deduction was anywhere other than on the Galleon.

"That's preposterous, surely he had help from a Prefect or a teacher that everyone simply forgot to give any credit to," said Daphne trying to regain some manner of ground against her long-time friend to no avail.

"Please, these rumours don't just sprout out of the ground from nothing. Every single rumour has to have some manner of truth to it otherwise it simply isn't believable in the first place," said Tracy.

"Fine, okay!" said Daphne as she speared a sausage with her knife. "I want to know how he did it, you happy?"

"Yes," said Tracy with a cheeky smile before she returned her attention to the food that was laid before her. Daphne meanwhile growled momentarily before composing herself. Directing her gaze over to the Gryffindor table she could see Harry Potter in conversation with both Granger and Longbottom, both of which probably knew the actual story. She didn't want to hear it second hand however, she wanted the untouched version that she could only get from one wizard at that table.

Getting him alone to do so however would be harder said than done.

…

Or surprisingly not, Daphne hadn't particularly been paying attention to what potion they were told they would be brewing but as soon as she heard the term partner spoken by her head of house she sprung into action. As soon as they were told to partner up with someone she marched over to the other side of the classroom with Tracy by her side.

She had always found the house system slightly off, it only served to segregate students into whatever an ancient piece of fabric thought best suited each individual. From what she had heard Slytherin had won or at least been in the top two houses for the past decade, mostly she felt due to Professor Snape's hatred of every other house. She had no way to prove this outside of the lessons she spent with him and even then she could see that he seemingly took pleasure in subtracting points for pointless reasons.

Snapping back to her original train of thought, Daphne marched up to where Potter was standing in discussion with Granger and Longbottom, likely figuring out who would be best partnering up with who. She decided that it was a perfect time to add her own opinion to the matter. "Excuse me, but if all possible could I partner up with Potter?" she said, her tone stating that this wasn't an option.

Apparently though it may have been as she witnessed an entire conversation between Longbottom, Granger and Potter without a single word being spoken. Small shifts in eyesight, a mild shrug of the shoulders and a flick of the head were the most obvious to spot but even she could tell that there was so much more going on. Had she not spent so long drilling her cold exterior as part of her day to day routine she honestly would have shown how frightened she was.

They were sizing her up, for what point and purpose though she wasn't sure.

"Fine," said Potter after what seemed like hours and only then did Daphne notice that small beads of sweat had begun to form on her brow.

"Ooh, in that case can I partner with Neville?" asked Tracy, practically bouncing at the idea.

"It would be an honour," said Neville with a slight bow while glancing at Hermione momentarily, the witch already in search of a new partner. He couldn't believe that the brown-haired witch had managed to read the situation so well and while they may not have been the targets they had been expecting they knew that a partner potion practical would see a reaction.

As heirs to respectable bloodlines they had already discussed how they would use the situation, or at least how he would. Working with a Slytherin student automatically meant that Snape wouldn't be berating him for every little thing, especially since he was now partnered with Tracy Davis. Her family owned one of the upmarket fashion stores in Diagon Alley which pandered towards a very specific market yet had continued to show profitable growth over the past decade. As far as he was aware there weren't any shady dealings going on under the table. Tracy herself was a halfblood and her positive attitude could have been directly related to the fact that that would be the only way to survive in Slytherin over the coming years if what he had heard of blood bigotry in the dungeons were true.

In other words, she could prove a worthy ally.

Harry had the much harder task. In prior weeks they had discussed how the Greengrasses had remained neutral through the previous war despite pressure from both sides. Knowing Harry as he did though, they would gain no alliance today but make an impact that could prove crucial down the track.

Or at least he hoped so.

In front of the cauldron that Daphne had set up Harry was busy reading away at all the necessary steps, ensuring that he didn't miss a single thing. Daphne returned to the workstation moments later with the required ingredients in her hands, placing them down on the chopping board. "So Potter, what part of this would you like to do?" she asked trying to sound as nice as she could, possibly due to the intimidation factor played against her earlier.

"My name's not Potter, it's Harry," he stated, not even taking his eyes off of the book.

Daphne was taken back a bit by this, she had grown up with the full belief that family names were far more important to those given at birth. One's family name already contained either power or lack thereof depending on how easily recognizable it was. She could only assume that Potter had no real clue of just how much say his name actually held, something she could probably explain to him at a later date if everything went according to plan.

"Alright then Harry, what do…"

"I'll do the prep work," said Harry turning his attention to the board full of ingredients in front of him, still not bothering to make any form of eye contact.

By now Daphne had begun to feel her blood boil before immediately freezing over as he watched Potter with a knife in his hand, the blade spinning several times in the palm of his hand before the first strike hit the board, severing the root from the stem. She could only then watch in shock as Harry sliced minutely thin strips at a pace that she couldn't replicate without drawing blood.

"I hope you're keeping time, these need to go into the cauldron exactly sixty seconds after being cut for maximum efficiency," said Harry, his eyes still glued to the task at hand. Daphne blinked twice before turning her attention to the book, noticing the footnote located at the bottom. Cursing to herself she tried to figure out how long it had been before floundering and grabbing at the cut pieces only to have the knife Harry had been using pierce the board in between where her hands had been.

"Fifteen seconds left," he said, once more without looking at her before returning to his duties.

Daphne meanwhile struggled to keep standing, her legs threatening to give out underneath her as she realized just how easy it would have been for him to stab her right through the top of her hand. While it was a terrible thought she couldn't help but feel that if he had done so he wouldn't have felt any remorse whatsoever.

Was he truly a demon as his skin depicted?

"Cauldron, now," he commanded.

She could only do as he said.

…

Harry, Hermione and Neville sat in their usual corner of the common room, their classes finished for the day. Despite their follow up classes there was only one lesson on their mind from the day. "How'd you go with Tracy Neville?" asked Hermione.

"Surprisingly well," said Neville. While he was still terrified of Snape to a degree Hermione had played a major role in helping him get up to scratch with potions to a point where he no longer felt intimidated walking into the class. Tracy by his side today had been a somewhat beneficial help as they actually managed to get their potion to Snape on time and by the looks of it in relatively good fashion. "Managed to create a somewhat reasonable relationship, general chatter was okay though mostly dominate on her part."

"She is a bit of a chatterbox," acknowledged Hermione. "What about you Harry, how'd you go with Daphne?"

"I broke her mould," said Harry, his fingers laced together as his gaze tried to burn a hole through the table in front of them.

"So you took on the Ice Princess and won," stated Neville as a sly grin passed over Hermione's face at the realisation of the victory they had achieved. "Did you push it too far?"

"She'll come back. When is up to her."

…

 **Hope you enjoyed.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

The schoolchildren cheered on as the Quidditch game commenced, the Quaffle being released signalling the official start. Most of the faculty had also made an appearance for the first game of the season which had originally been scheduled for the previous weekend. It had been postponed however with the Gryffindor captain Oliver Wood declaring that they had still been searching for a competent Seeker. In the end he had had to go with Cormac McLaggen, a second year student whose father had sent him a brand new Cleansweep Seven to celebrate his son's success. Considering two of the other three applicants had fallen off their broom during tryouts and the other declared how they were scared of heights, Wood hadn't had much difficulty with his choice.

Albus Dumbledore allowed himself to relax as he watched the game unfold, not truly caring about the result of the game but rather was watching it for the competition. He had heard of how young Harry Potter had turned down the chance to follow in his father's footsteps and in doing so turned away the chance to become the youngest Seeker in quite a number of years. He merely had to hope that when he watched the game today and were Gryffindor to lose than Harry would sign himself up or be pressured into the position. If he knew of the legacy he would be living up to then there was no chance that he would turn down the opportunity.

The incident with the troll had troubled him deeply; Harry was already delving into knowledge and spells far beyond what he was ready for. Speaking with a number of his professors it seemed as if he was already cruising through his schoolwork with as much gusto as possible, likely so that he could continue his extracurricular studies. The main issue was that he wasn't following any guidelines, nobody was ensuring that he didn't start looking into forms of potentially Dark Magic. But there was no real way to dissuade the child. Hopefully his most recent stint in the Hospital Wing would have shown him of the potential dangers, nearly losing an arm was bound to do that to a young boy's psyche.

It was a shame that Ron Weasley hadn't made any more progress in making friends with Harry, though from what he had heard the boy's twin brothers had visited Harry in the infirmary. Informing Harry of how his father had been a bit of a practical joker back in his day was also another way he could go about getting Harry to loosen up a bit. The boy clearly was far too serious for his age. He hated to think what had caused such a thing but knew better than to pry into that hornet's nest. For now he could only wait until such a time in where it was appropriate for him to step in as either the Headmaster of Hogwarts or an elderly vizier. When Harry next injured himself would be opportune.

Ignoring the action going on in front of him for a moment, Albus focused his attention on the Gryffindor cheer squad, the children shouting their support for their House. While he couldn't spot him from his position, he knew that amongst the sea of red and gold Harry was cheering on amongst his peers, likely from a place where his disfigurement wouldn't ostracize himself. Competitive sport was always a good way to get people to ignore the problems right in front of them.

It was a shame however that Harry Potter wasn't in attendance.

Tucked away in a corner of the library like always were Harry and Hermione, diligently reading through advanced duelling tactics. Neville wasn't with them this afternoon, having felt that at least one of them should make a show at the match. He was acting on their behalf as the interested party, showing that if the rest of Gryffindor were willing they would join in.

Neither Hermione nor Harry particularly cared about the outcome of the game. Hermione had sat through enough of her father's football matches to honestly say that sport didn't particularly interest her. Perhaps on an international level she could find some pride in supporting her country but for a school House tournament there really wasn't anything to go by.

"Most of these texts have the same spells in them," summarized Hermione as she put down her third book, nearly two feet of notes written out in front of her.

"I think that's deliberate," said Harry as he looked up at Hermione. "Nearly all of these books were written in Britain and as such everyone one of the authors grew up with a very similar background. If we wanted to look up a bigger variety we'd almost have to send Hedwig halfway across the world to pick up something from Bulgaria, India or maybe even Japan."

"So why are we…oh, I see," said Hermione, figuring out the answer to her own question before she even asked it.

"Exactly, for the most parts the spells are identical but there's always a touch of difference in the wording or explanation," said Harry. "Each of these authors were able to take a simple stunning spell and make it best suit them. Other than the incantation, you can see how the tiniest of changes can affect everything. Since we're still first year students and our magical strength really isn't that high at the moment we should be focusing on how to use speed to our advantage. If you and I were to fight and we shot the same spell but you were able to cast yours off half a second earlier you'd win regardless."

"That's very hypothetical," retorted Hermione. "I can see your point however. I read in ' _Gauging One's Magical Potential,'_ that we shouldn't reach our peak until sixth year and after that it's more a matter of sharpening our skills than using full force every time."

Feeling that no more needed to be said, Harry closed his book and went to scrounge through the nearby row for another one to delve through. The treasure trove of knowledge in front of him was almost unbelievable but it came with the unfortunate problem of being difficult to find. While he could potentially ask the librarian for assistance he feared that news would then spread back to Dumbledore. At the moment that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't need nor want such an overbearing figure in his life, he simply wanted to live life the way he wanted.

A quick glance out the nearby window showed a vast number of students making their way back to the castle. Grabbing a book off the shelf, one ' _To Shield or Avoid,'_ he returned to the desk. "Neville should be on his way, game's finished," he announced before taking his seat. Hermione didn't even bother replying, merely content with knowing that the third member of their trio would be joining them soon.

Thus they continued their work and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

"He must have gotten tossed off course by the stairs," said Hermione. "He'll be here soon."

"Of course, he'll be here shortly," said Harry, his voice betraying him as he couldn't help but feel that something was wrong.

His nerves were stilled however as he heard footsteps coming towards them, both Hermione and Harry shooting their gaze in the direction, both of them growling in anger of who they saw. "Before you start hexing, I've just come as the messenger," said Gregory Goyle as he sauntered up to the table, the contents in his left hand hidden by a white cloth.

"Deliver your message then," said Harry, his fingers almost instinctively reaching for his wand.

"Malfoy is challenging you to a duel," announced Goyle. "The rumours surrounding the troll incident have gone well overboard and as such he feels that it is necessary to gauge your own strength against his own."

Hermione felt that this sounded far more scripted than what Goyle was verbally capable of.

"I don't need to prove anything," said Harry, his eyes sharpening dangerously as Goyle began to sweat a touch. He had heard the rumours like everybody else in the school and still wasn't sure what was true and what was false. If half of it was true then chances were he would be in the Hospital Wing before the hour was up.

Especially with what was about to happen.

"Malfoy believed that this gift he offers would be enough to get you to agree," said Goyle as he placed the hidden object on the table. It was common knowledge that throwing spells around in the library would land you in serious hot water. He merely hoped that the two Gryffindor students knew that.

Hermione lifted up the cloth and the contents underneath caused Harry's anger to boil. "Neville's wand," said Hermione in realization, the artefact that had been passed down to their friend having been snapped in half.

"Where and when?"

"What?" asked Goyle, unable to hear the words Harry had spoken.

"Where. And. When!" stated Harry, his eyes burning with rage as he twisted his head to glare at Goyle.

"Forbidden Corridor, dinner time," answered Goyle as quickly as he could.

"Tell Malfoy I accept. Go!" Harry nearly shouted, sending the young Slytherin student scampering towards the exit far quicker than he had entered.

"Harry, you need to calm down," said Hermione as she leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Surprisingly, Harry did manage to reign his anger in. Or at least did a really good job of keeping it hidden. "Thanks," he said as he took a deep breath. "We've got a couple hours up our sleeve then. Firstly, pen a letter to Neville's gran and state that he needs a new wand as soon as possible and that I'll pay for it as a good show of faith between our Houses."

"Are you sure Harry?" asked Hermione, recalling how much her own wand had set her parents back. Being a young witch wasn't cheap.

"Trust me Hermione, I can afford it," said Harry only just realizing that he hadn't actually told Hermione of the inheritance left to him. "If you ever need anything school orientated just tell me and I'll sort it out for you."

"As generous as that sounds, you need to focus, Harry," said Hermione as she stood up and walked over to where the librarian was sitting behind the counter. Harry simply watched before Hermione was directed down several aisles where she shortly returned with another book clutched in her hands. "This should give us a lowdown on etiquette and the formalities. I know you can destroy him Harry but if you're going to do it you're going to do so properly."

Harry couldn't help but smile as he took the book from Hermione, the young witch beginning to construct the letter to send off to Madam Longbottom. For the first friend he ever had he felt like he had made the perfect choice.

…

Draco stood in the Forbidden Third Corridor, flaming torches illuminating the hallway. He had designated this spot simply because nobody would dare question Dumbledore's rule. Nobody was allowed in this corridor, therefore nobody would look in this corridor.

Simple.

Standing on either side of him were Crabbe and Goyle, his bodyguards of sorts ready to assist in showing Potter that he wasn't the top kid that everyone proclaimed he was. While this was issued as an official duel Malfoy had no intention of honouring it as such. As good as Potter thought he was, all three of them had been taught their family magic from a young age as well as many duelling techniques. While their theory work could only get them so far, practically there was not a child in their year or likely the following grade that could take them on by themselves.

Perhaps even a handful of third year students.

For now though they only had a single student in mind.

Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed down the corridor causing Malfoy to smirk and look over his shoulder at where Longbottom was tied up with rope that he'd earlier conjured. "Hear that Longbottom, your friend is marching towards his defeat," said Malfoy with a confident smirk.

Neville managed to gaze through a his least swollen eye towards the end of the corridor. He didn't know why he had gotten lax with his safety and he had paid the price for it, mostly for the fact his father's wand had been snapped. A precious family heirloom, destroyed. All for the sake of stroking one's ego.

He simply hoped that Harry could extract revenge for him.

The three Slytherin students had managed to spot their target striding towards them, each step taken with purpose. What Draco found more surprising however was the fact that his Mudblood whore had decided to tag along. Like the pathetic Mudblood could do anything if she got caught in the fight.

"Heir Malfoy," stated Harry as he stopped in front of Draco and his cronies, roughly ten metres separating them. "I have arrived at the allotted time at the appointed place for the duel you requested. Hermione Granger has offered to be my second should the need arise but before she steps foot in this duel upon my honour I swear to battle you with all my strength."

Draco, for one, stood in shock at the somewhat informal duelling greeting that had been given. The mere fact that one had been offered was what had him perplexed. From what he had heard, Potter had only rejoined the Wizarding World when he had stepped foot into Diagon Alley to collect his school supplies. There was no way that he should have been able to comprehend the situation he was in.

"Potter," he said through a scowl, his rage getting the better of him. "Everte Statum!" he shouted as he sent the vindictive spell towards Harry. Unfortunately for Malfoy, Harry wasn't blown back several paces but rather had nothing happen to him, Potter having put up an adequate shield to stop the duelling technique.

"Heir Malfoy, you have cast without the start of the duel being signalled," said Harry, prepared for another sneak attack. "If you do so again I…" Harry didn't get the chance to finish his declaration before Malfoy attempted the same spell once more. His shield however was more than sufficient. "Having shown no honour, I declare this duel with Heir Malfoy officially over." Harry took a moment to inhale deeply before focusing on the three students standing between him and his friend. "Now that that formality bullshit is over and done with, are you going to run and save what little honour you have or am I going to have to kill you?"

Draco wasn't sure if that was what Potter had meant to say, but intimidating it was. Potter had managed to block both his spells and he himself had had no prior knowledge on how to defend against an offensive attack. "Petram Bellator!" shouted Crabbe from his side during abrupt wandwork, showing just why he deserved to be Malfoy's right hand man as he caused the bricks in front of him to break apart and form a stone golem-esque warrior. Malfoy knew though that casting such a spell would have drained his ally of almost everything he had and the best he could expect Crabbe to do from this point would be to send off tickling curses or perhaps even a tripping jinx if he was lucky.

Malfoy watched with a hint of joy as Crabbe's summon ambled forward, the Mudblood reacting by sending some manner of curse at the creature only to watch as it was unaffected in the slightest. Draco couldn't help but feel worried as Potter watched on with minimal expression before stepping forward, closing the distance between himself and the golem.

Goyle seemed to understand that this was an opportune moment as he aimed his wand at the Mudblood. "Rictumsempra!" he shouted as he sent his attack towards the filth. By the shock in her eyes, it was clear she hadn't been expecting this and she could only raise her arms to defend herself, like such a pitiful tactic could actually have any effect.

It mattered not. Potter, in what one could only describe as grace, shielded the whore from the attack before gliding underneath a cumbersome swing from the golem. The blow had enough strength to likely punch a hole in a pillar of granite but it didn't matter for barely a second after it had swung it would move no more, the construct having been encased in ice.

Draco could count his remaining options on a single hand and still have fingers left over as Potter strode ever closer. Before he had even had time to come up with a plan, Potter was no more than three feet away, his scar-ravaged face glaring directly at him.

"Boo!"

Pride, ego, honour, it all meant nothing as he fled for his life, Crabbe and Goyle chasing behind him. Sprinting towards the safety of the dungeons, he couldn't help but bite the inside of his lip harshly enough to draw blood. This was meant to be so simple and while he didn't expect Potter to bask in his victory, and the likelihood of anybody else learning of this was minimal, it didn't help him in the slightest. Three on one, the Mudblood didn't even come into consideration. Crabbe had summoned a golem out of the stone surrounding them, a spell which even he had no idea the imbecile was capable of. The whiteness of his skin showed that the spell had nearly drained everything from the boy, had he attempted to cast another spell he very well may have collapsed.

He needed to inform his father of these developments immediately.

Slowing down close to the Slytherin Common Room, Draco turned to face his two comrades. "This day never happened," he said with authority. Thankfully it looked as if his prior stint had lost no following with his two allies. "We don't mention Potter, Longbottom or that Mudblood bitch, none of that ever happened!"

Crabbe and Goyle merely nodded in agreement before they were ferried through the hidden entrance. Little did any of them realize however that their conversation had managed to be overheard by another student.

"I am soooo getting the gist on this," said Tracy Davis as she made her way back down to the Great Hall. It only took a minute before she stepped foot through the majestic hall and headed straight towards the Slytherin table. Hopefully the information she had would be able to get her friend out of her slump.

Plomping herself next to Daphne, Tracy took a moment to actually look at her friend. Ever since her attempt to get to know Harry Potter during their Potions class, the Greengrass heiress had become a completely different person. The ice cold persona she had previously held onto like a lifeline had been shattered to the point where Daphne had yet to touch the food on her plate. Sharp and witty comments had been reduced to nothing and she barely took the time to make conversation with anyone, even her.

"C'mon Daph, you need to eat," said Tracy trying to egg on her friend.

"Not hungry," replied Daphne.

"Bull, since that day I've barely seen you eat more than a slice of bread, that's not healthy!" exclaimed Tracy.

"I said, I'm not hungry," said Daphne, her body betraying her moments later as her stomach rumbled its discontent.

"That explains everything," stated Tracy before forcibly grabbing Daphne by the shoulders and forcing her friend to look at her. "Eat half a decent meal and I'll tell you what I just heard from Malfoy and his cronies. It involves Harry…"

"Harry!" said a startled Daphne.

"Eat!" commanded Tracy pointing to the plate of food that was in front of Daphne.

Tracy had never seen her friend eat so fast.

…

"How are you feeling Neville?" asked Hermione as she along with Harry and the recently released Neville made their way back to the common room. They had taken a momentary detour in order to get some salves to reduce the swelling Neville had experienced.

"Honestly, like absolute crud," said Neville rubbing at his wrists, glad they were no longer bound by rope.

"If it's any help, we've already sent off word to your Gran about getting you a new wand," said Hermione as they finished climbing the set of stairs.

"Really, you didn't tell her why though right?" asked Neville as they stood in front of the Fat Lady portrait.

"We merely said that it was the result of an unavoidable accident," said Hermione, silently hoping that the grandmother bought into her excuse, or lack of.

"I see," said Neville nervously before he saw that Harry was still looking down at the floors below. "Are you alright?"

"Just…thinking," said Harry.

"About Malfoy?" asked Hermione.

"Kinda, I get the feeling that he's not going to be the last one to get under our skin, especially if word spreads," said Harry. "The other thing that is worrying me is about that forbidden corridor."

"What about it?" asked Neville.

"What's forbidden about it?"

Neither Neville nor Hermione could answer.

…

 **Hope you enjoyed**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

 _Harry shook his head from side to side, his view shrouded by clouds of fog. All around him he could hear whispers, people speaking in hushed voices to one another. He didn't need to hear it properly to understand what topic was being discussed._

" _Harry!" screamed a voice from nearby, one very familiar to Harry._

" _Hermione!" he said in a hushed tone before he charge forward in the direction of her voice, Through the fog surrounding him he soon saw a light up ahead, one very similar to the streetlamps that had adorned Privet Drive. He skidded to a stop when he saw her, scrunched up in a ball as his relatives yelled derogatory terms and stomped on her bruised and bleeding form._

" _Help!" she screamed before Dudley punted her in the face._

 _He could hear the crack from where he was standing._

 _Harry sprinted as fast as his legs would allow him but no matter how fast he ran he was able to make no ground. If anything he seemed to be getting further away. Harry desperately checked his pockets as he tried to find his wand but as soon as he stopped looking at Hermione the screams stopped and the image before him had vanished._

" _Hermione?"_

" _Harry!"_

 _That wasn't Hermione screaming his name this time but someone equally as important. "Neville, where are you!" shouted Harry in frantic desperation. The response wasn't particularly coherent as Neville simply screamed out in agony, Harry running in the direction he believed his friend was._

 _It didn't take long but he felt physically exhausted as he spotted Neville beneath a flaming torch, his body spasming in agony as Malfoy and his cronies shot curse after curse at the twitching boy. Once more Harry reached for his wand, not losing sight of his target as his fingers grasped around his weapon._

 _As he lifted his wand however a hand held his arm down. "You must learn to forgive Harry," said Dumbledore in his grandfatherly tone. "To not know forgiveness can be a terrible thing."_

 _Before Harry could utter a response he felt the fingers on his left hand go rigid and his line of sight shifted as he focused on his hand as ice crawled up his skin, encompassing his flesh. As it continued to climb higher and higher, the tips of his fingers began to shatter away, pieces of himself breaking away like snowflakes._

 _He screamed._

…

"Mister Potter!" screamed Professor McGonagall before Harry bolted upright, sweat pouring off his brow as the curtains around his bed settled down. Grasping for his glasses, Harry's sight focused as the thin wires caught around his ears to find his Head of House staring down at him.

"Professor?" he said in confusion before he understood why the drapes surrounding his bed had been waving around in the first place. His blanket had been tossed halfway across the bedroom while random belongings had been thrown in all manner of directions. How his glasses had remained on his desk was unbelievable on it's own. Neville, Seamus and Dean all stood behind their Head of House, Minerva guarding them from any other potential threats.

Ron remained asleep.

"What happened?" he asked slowly.

"It would seem," said Professor McGonagall as she adjusted her own glasses to look around the room, "That you were having a nightmare. A particularly troublesome nightmare as your magic was flaring about quite erratically when I arrived."

"I'm…I'm sorry," he said apologetically, thankful that nobody had been injured by his unintended assault.

"I will have to form Headmaster Dumbledore in the morning and perhaps organize a private room for you until such a time where we can ensure that another incident like this doesn't happen again," declared Minerva.

"I understand," said Harry still looking at his bed covers.

"Please understand that I must do my best to guarantee the safety of all students, each of you must consider yourself lucky to have not been harmed," said Professor McGonagall turning her attention to the three students cowering behind her. "Thank you for alerting me as soon as you did Mister Longbottom. Had Mister Potter's magic continued to flare for much longer you may not have had a bed to return to tonight."

As Professor McGonagall left, telling them all to do their best to get some more rest before the morning, Neville sat down on Harry's bed before returning to his own mattress. "Are you alright?" he asked of his friend.

"It was just a nightmare," said Harry still refusing to make eye contact.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Neville.

Seconds ticked by before Harry finally answered. "No."

…

It wasn't long before notifications were being sent out to all those students wishing to return home over the Christmas break. As these requests were being handed out by the Heads of Houses, Professor McGonagall asked Harry if he would like to return home over the period to spend time with his relatives. She honestly couldn't figure out why Harry felt so strongly about temporarily leaving the castle.

Neville looked up from the form he had been given. "I'd like to stay with you Harry, I really would but my family holds a yuletide festival over Christmas and I've been asked to attend," said Neville bashfully. "I can ask Gran if you'd like to stay, as a little way of saying thanks for the new wand."

The wand in question was ten inches long and made of elm, the hair of a unicorn resting in the centre of the essential utensil. Harry had met Madam Longbottom at the entrance to the school when she arrived only a day after the incident that saw Neville require a new wand. Her eyes told of great experience and she didn't flinch in the slightest at the sight of Harry. They spoke briefly, her biggest comment being that Harry showed great restraint in not destroying another's wand in punishment. Harry simply said that such an act would likely create further retribution down the line and that by simply installing fear into his opponents would do wonders down the long run.

Madam Longbottom had been chuckling until she and Neville had Apparated away.

"Thanks Nev but I think I'm just going to stay here," said Harry as he scratched at the back of his head. "Less likely to get in trouble here."

"I'm afraid I can't stay either," said Hermione. "Mum, Dad and I had plans in place since before school even began, I can't very well cancel on them now."

"That's fine Hermione, don't cancel anything on my behalf," said Harry. He swallowed a little in understanding that once more he was going to be alone in a crowd but having been in such an experience for so long a couple week break would feel like nothing. "It'll give me some time to figure out our next plan of action."

"You don't have to do this alone, Harry," said Hermione as she rested her palm atop his fist, the young boy not realizing he had even clenched his fingers closed.

"Thanks," he said weakly as Neville patted him on the back.

"We really don't know just who's going to be staying," said Neville. "I trust though that you're not going to paint yourself as the bad guy while we're gone."

"I think I'm already painted as the villain," joked Harry at his own expense.

"Maybe more of an anti-hero then," said Hermione causing the two of them to chuckle lightly.

"Anti-hero? What does that mean?" asked Neville.

"Harry in a nutshell," said Hermione, Harry mildly scowling at the comment but choosing not to argue against it. While she knew Neville was clueless about the comment she doubted Harry knew more the basics in regards to how she commended him. Having been a witness to his terrifying assault against the three Slytherin students she felt she could give no higher prestige towards her fellow Gryffindor student, even if he didn't properly realize the prestige she was bestowing upon him.

"And on that note, I'mma head to the library to prevent myself from stowing away in one of your pieces of luggage," said Harry as he stood up from the dining table, his half eaten meal now forgotten. Part of him actually wished to jump ship away from Hogwarts and reside alongside his friends but knew that his disfigurement, while could potentially be tolerated, did not give him the right to intrude in such a way.

"Want us to…" started Hermione but when Harry didn't even slow in his place she knew it was pointless to finish her question. Biting at her lip, she growled momentarily for having been ignored but knew better than to try and push anything. Taking a calming breath she looked at Neville and saw anxiousness written all over his face. "What do you know, Neville?" she asked.

"It's his magic," said Neville glad that nobody was near enough to overhear what he was going to say.

"What about it?"

"I told Gran everything the other day, I couldn't help myself but when I told her that Harry had frozen a creature in place she had stopped in the middle of the street and nearly stumbled over. She asked me if Harry had ever used any other ice spells and I told her about the time he had killed the troll. She told me that elemental magic should never be used if necessary. Look at Fiendfyre for example. As soon as it is cast it's almost impossible to stop!"

"So what does ice magic do then?" asked Hermione.

"Gran wouldn't say but she said that if Harry knew what was good for him he'd stop."

Hermione frowned at that, the elderly woman likely knew what she was talking about and had cut the conversation off there to protect Neville from the information. Considering Harry had only found the one book on the topic throughout the whole library by a random fluke she sincerely doubted that she would find one describing the adverse effects ice magic contained. Worrying about her friend, she wondered just what would happen to Harry if he kept pursuing this form of possibly dark magic?

…

Harry watched as light patches of snow glided past the window, drifting towards the very growing piles of white powder covering the ground. Hermione and Neville had left on the Hogwarts Express only half an hour ago and he was already missing their company. He wholeheartedly believed that he'd likely say not a single word during their absence. There really wasn't anyone he would approach to make conversation with.

That didn't mean that somebody, or two in this case, would track him down instead.

"Hello Harry…"

"We knew you'd be here…"

"Hence why we have come here…"

"As we'd like a word with you…"

"You powerful little wizard you," finished both Weasley twins at the same time.

Harry didn't bother responding with words as his gaze slowly shifted from the window to the sight of the red headed twins. He wasn't sure whether or not they'd been truthful in knowing that he was in this location but since their way of speaking, while comical when first introduced to it, was now grating on his nerves he didn't want to make them say anymore than necessary.

"A man of few words…"

"Intimidating indeed…"

"To most perhaps…"

"But not too us."

"Either one of you talks, or neither of you do," declared Harry, the emotion in his voice cold and lifeless.

Fred and George looked at one another at the threat that had been made towards them. Had any other first year dared to speak like them in such a way they would find themselves entering the Great Hall with pink hair and wearing a ballerina outfit. The boy in front of them however was no mere first year, hence why they had tracked him down after all.

"Very well," said the one on the left, taking the lead. "We've been making some inroads lately into what Dumbledore has got hidden away on the third floor, right next to where you froze whatever it was that you were fighting. Don't worry, we got rid of the evidence for you."

Harry swallowed begrudgingly at that, none of the three first year students had contemplated getting rid of the golem having been too focused on Neville and his injuries. In hindsight that could have been a very terrible thing had the after effects of the duel with the Slytherin students been caught by anyone else.

"What do you want?" asked Harry.

"We're not looking at getting you into trouble or bribing you to do anything you want to," they said defensively. "The thing is though that we are in need of your help."

"My help?"

"You see, we've been poking our noses into spaces that aren't so welcome, down the Forbidden Third Corridor in fact," they said, pausing momentarily before remembering that his brother couldn't follow on his sentence. "There's a door down that corridor with a Cerberus tucked behind it."

"A Cerberus, a three headed dog?"

"And a big one at that," commented the other twin, happy to be able to make some manner of noise without breaking their unofficial contract.

"Talking to a certain groundskeeper who enjoys his Brandy a touch too much, we discovered that you can lull the dog to sleep with a bit of music," said the one on the left. "So we did and found a trapdoor hidden underneath the beast. Figuring, why the hell not, we went down and landed on a bed of Devil's Snare. Intimidating at first when we had no real clue what it was but once we figured out what it was, getting through was simple. The next problem though was something we couldn't do on our own and would like your assistance getting through."

Harry bit at his lip as he contemplated just what the Weasley twins were asking of him. He had nothing against them by any means but knew very well that the whole family was quite loyal to Dumbledore. The twins though were the odd ones out of the bunch and considering their general lack of care for the rules suggested that there could be something of an alliance to be made out of this.

"I'm in," Harry declared, not even bothering to hear what the task he was required for was. Considering his strength with ice magic he already had a few ideas in mind as to what he could be required for.

…

Or they could have not wanted him for his ice magic at all. "You want me to fly up there, find the exact key needed for the door and help you guys get through to the next room?" said Harry in as much of a deadpanned voice as he could, looking on at the task ahead with displeasure.

They had snuck out later that night, the twins having cast Silencing Charms to ensure that their footsteps made no sound. Harry had been somewhat intimidated by the Cerberus' size but Fred (or at least he assumed it was Fred) pulled out a flute of all things and played a terrible butchering version of whatever he was trying to play. The sad thing was that it worked.

Throwing themselves down the trapdoor, Harry understood what they meant by the Devil's Snare being dangerous if they had no idea how to deal with it. He was also then shown the exit the twins had used, a spiral set of stairs to a door which the twins proclaimed only was visible from one side. Then of course they had pushed further into this room which was currently causing their current predicament.

"What key am I even trying to get?" asked Harry.

"Don't know."

"We were just going to try them one at a time until one worked."

"You know what, screw that," said Harry as he whipped out his wand and focused on the door that lead to the next room.

"We already tried to unlock it, didn't work," one of them said.

Harry meanwhile had no intention of unlocking it. Channelling his magic and focusing on the wooden door in front of him, Harry cast quickly and the room grew colder before the exit slowly froze over, ice penetrating deep into the timber. The twins took this as their cue as they pulled out their wands and cast at the target.

"Bombarda!" they shouted in unison, the explosive charms shattering the recently frozen door and allowing them access to the next room. "Good job Harry."

"Why didn't one of you guys come up with the idea to blow up the door earlier?" asked Harry.

"We figured it would trigger an alarm," they said in unison, the three of them then pausing as they slowly understood that they likely only had a handful of minutes before their presence was known.

"Push forward or leave?" Harry asked of them, his eyes sharp as he tried to figure out what they would choose.

"Leave," they said after only a couple seconds of deliberation. Harry nodded in acknowledgement before the twins cast Incendio at the remains of the door, their flames quickly burning away at the evidence that a door had ever been there to begin with. After ten seconds, the twins stopped their spell to see that the proof had evaporated, no ice being left behind. Without another word, the three students quickly made their way toward the exit and silently hoped they weren't caught in the act.

There would be another time to try their luck once more.

Christmas holidays had only just started after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Lucius Malfoy stared at his son, a scowl spread across his face as he contemplated the best course of action. When his son had sent news to him prior to the end of his first semester that he had been bested in a fixed duel, by the Potter boy no less, he had thought his son had been jesting with him. With every passing word written though it was clear that there was panic and fear regarding what the boy was capable of.

Thus he had demanded to witness the memory of the event.

Watching the event unfold, he was surprised by just what the child was capable of, especially considering if the rumours were true he had spent his life so far amongst the filth that walked the Earth. The battle had given him food for thought in how best to punish his son for his incompetence, he along with the Crabbe and Goyle's children had had the number advantage and the element of both surprise and a hostage at their disposal. Even then only one of them had had the decency to try and maim the Mudblood. The other had managed to summon a sentient being, a rather impressive feat for someone who would one day serve their lord.

Draco's efforts had been most disappointing.

To this point though he was aware that he had done little to teach Draco power, he was in the house of the cunning and Lucius having expected as much. Most of his teachings had entailed showing Draco who he was in life, what his position was amongst the sheep. Lucius taught his son how to pull the right strings and shape destiny through the power of his last name. His accomplices were meant to be all the strength he required. It seemed this was not the case.

"We will begin training in the morning," declared Lucius, his voice cracking like a whip. "Begone."

He watched as Draco scurried away with whatever composure he could muster. Lucius was quite sure that his son would know what was in store for him come the morrow. The welts and cuts he would receive wouldn't quite put him on par with how monstrous the Potter boy looked but it would serve its purpose.

That brought his train of thought back to the Potter scum. From the sound of it the only people he had aligned himself with were both the Longbottom heir and the Mudblood. The filth aside, while the Longbottoms had been warriors of the light in the last war they had suffered dearly for their stupidity. Even now it was clear to see the repercussions. While the Longbottom matriarch was a force to be reckoned with in the political world she barely spoke up unless the topic was harshly controversial. She had shifted from the forefront and seemed content with simply watching the world tear itself apart. As off as it sounded, the Longbottom's were almost classified as a grey family, the horrors of war having torn their belief in the light apart. After all, if they hadn't followed Dumbledore all those years ago then two of their family members wouldn't be permanently restricted to the mental ward of St Mungo's.

It made the political world inside Hogwarts quite interesting to bear witness to. From what he gathered there were already two independent groups of light being formed, one of which were following Dumbledore blindly and would gladly throw themselves in front of a Killing Curse for him. The others, if what Draco told him in his letters were true, were being led by the Bones heiress. It was understandable that her views of the whole matter of 'light' would be different from her compatriots, her aunt was the head of the DMLE and a constant thorn in his side. Her view on what was light would have already been warped from a young age to believe that everything had to be by the book. Draco was wise not to rile up that kettle of the flobberworms at the moment, last thing he needed was for Madam Bones to have another reason to breathe fire down his neck.

His son would do well in the years to come in corrupting even the most light-hearted Slytherins, the minority by far, to his cause. With the power he would teach him Draco would learn that none would wish to be the target of his ire. Like with every grade there would be those that would coerce with only their own peers but so long as Draco made enough of an influence on them when he could it would mean they could be summoned to his side at his call. His child simply had to learn how to use the skills he had already been taught.

The most interesting development by far was this supposed Grey Faction that was being formed in the school. A pureblood, a halfblood and a Mudblood all coming together was absurd. Like with all alliances there had to be a reason why they had joined forces, but he cared not for such trivial matters. What mattered was being able to use them to his advantage. Draco had already likely burnt all bridges that would lead to them seeing one another as equals. Just because he would never align himself with Draco however didn't necessarily mean he would align himself with Dumbledore's forces. That did mean that the most likely form of an alliance that would be formed, were one to form at all, would be between the Light party governed by the Bones heiress and the Greys.

In all likelihood, were such an allegiance soon to exist, Draco would have to be as crafty as him in order to keep his head above water.

…

Harry awoke that morning as if it were any other day, ignoring the fact that every other student still in the school was likely struggling to contain their joy at it being the most festive day of the year. On most years it merely meant for him that he would get the fat off the roast ham his uncle was fond of. Fumbling around for his glasses, when his sight was corrected he was glad to see that he had not experienced another bout of accidental magic in his sleep. Only once more had it happened after he had been moved to his own quarters, his quilt and mattress had been torn to shreds and it had taken a full day of study to find an appropriate spell that would repair the damage he had unconsciously caused.

One valuable thing about being isolated in his own room each morning was that it was actually separated from the rest of the Gryffindor common room, being located on the same floor but further down the corridor. The move had happened pretty smoothly other than the fact the Professor Dumbledore had attempted to prevent it from happening at all, saying that it was best for Harry to be surrounded by his peers. Harry had started to leak crocodile tears and said that he would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt those around him when they were unable to protect themselves. Albus had been unable to mount a counter argument to his words but declared that as soon as Harry stopped having accidental bouts of magic he would be moved back into Gryffindor tower.

Harry had thus far lied five times to Professor McGonagall, telling her time and time again that something had occurred during his slumber. She accepted his word and asked if he needed help restoring his room to order where he would then say he had already fixed it. He would continue to lie for the rest of his school life if it meant staying out of the public eye for a little while longer.

Harry wasn't sure just who this room was originally available for but it must have been for somebody important. His entire private quarters was larger than the bottom floor of his uncle's home, complete with its own private bathroom and a living area not too dissimilar from that in Gryffindor tower albeit a lot smaller. For the boy who had spent most of his life living under a set of stairs he felt as if he was living in a palace.

And he had taken the liberty of turning his living room into his own personal laboratory.

While many may have expected to see a collection of books, both recreational and educational, Harry had almost abused the open fireplace he had at his disposal, a black cauldron hanging several inches over the hot coals. While he couldn't get many ingredients on his own, his makeshift alliance with the Weasley Twins had gathered them coin in exchange for them purchasing every ingredient they could think of from Hogsmeade along with as many glass vials as they could carry. They had returned with his stock only two days prior and after a rushed breakfast, Harry had set about preparing and preserving every ingredient in as many ways as his potions tome had told him would be necessary.

Not even bothering to get out of his pyjamas, Harry ambled into the living room intent on checking out his latest batch of Befuddlement Draught. He had allowed his concoction to simmer overnight, having read that so long as the liquid did not become a vapour it would do no damage to the ingredients used and some potion masters theorized that the time of effect increased with time brewed. Since reckless and volatile nature was hard to measure however and was likely different from person to person there was no clear evidence backing this statement.

Didn't mean it wasn't worth a shot.

His wandering towards his brew was cut short as Harry spotted a handful of parcels sitting atop his table. Blinking twice in curiosity, Harry chose to ignore the suspicious looking parcels for the moment and chose to resume his previous task and set about bottling his potion. The vials he bottled them in were no wider than his thumb and he had charmed them to be resistant to breakage, though excessive force or dangerous spell fire would be enough to counteract his charms.

With his job done and cauldron now sitting to the side of the fireplace, Harry turned his attention to the five parcels he had been gifted. He had never received Christmas presents before and had never truly thought about it all too much up to this point. It was just like his birthday, something that never really meant much despite the 'importance' of the day. If he was meant to feel happy, he couldn't quite muster more than a small smile. It felt nice to be thought of on a day like this but no more than that.

Taking a seat on his recliner near the fireplace, the first of the presents levitated and made its way over to where he was sitting, Harry's master of Wingardium Leviosa was a sight to behold. Unravelling the twine that held the wrapping in place revealed a sweater, crimson in colour with a giant golden 'H' sewn in the centre. Straight away, Harry hated it and it wasn't too long after he had grasped the material that he had tossed it forward onto the coals in his fireplace, the jumper igniting seconds after it had come in contact with the intense heat. He didn't need any reminders of who he was.

The next parcel he opened was much smaller in size but much more valuable. The first thing he saw was the note from Hermione, wishing him well over the break and that she was looking forward to seeing him soon. Along with the note was a box of caramel fudge that her parents had highly disapproved of but she wanted to send it to him regardless. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at how Hermione was sending chocolate despite her parents being dentists, it was a funny bit of irony. Neville's present was next, a well written message of fond greetings coupled with a pair of leather gloves that were apparently highly resistant to heat if his note was too be believed. He would be sure to thank the two of them when they returned.

The other large parcel was deprived of its wrapping revealing a silvery grey robe, once more with a handwritten note on it. ' _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.'_ Harry bit at the inside of his lip as he looked at the garment in front of him, clearly understanding that this was something far more valuable than what it first seemed. There was no point in sending him his father's old robe for just sentimental value after all.

The first question that arose was why this wasn't given to him at an earlier time. If the person whom had been holding on to this robe (who had conveniently forgotten to sign their name) had known all along who it had belonged to and that they were going to give it to him, why wait all this time? Something wasn't quite adding up here and Harry wasn't keen to test out the robe until such a time as those he was comfortable with had returned to Hogwarts. Last thing he wanted was to put it on only to find that the inside had been lined with a paralysing potion or something else of a sinister nature. While he was definitely thinking of the worst case scenario he refused to look at it in any other way until such a time as it was deemed 'safe.'

The final present floated over to him seemed horridly wrapped, the colourful paper containing the present was crinkled and many small tears were being held together with spellotape. Opening it and tossing the paper into the smouldering remains of the horrendous jumper, Harry found himself looking at a rabbit plush toy. Of the five presents he had received, this one seemed the most out of place and he was thankful that it came with a note to help him make heads or tails of the whole situation. ' _Merry Christmas Harry. I want you to have Flopsy, he kept me safe at night and hopefully he'll keep you safe as well._ ' Like with the note that had come with his father's robe, this one was unsigned but unlike the elegant writing from before, this one was scribbled down in what he could only assume was the sender being rushed. There was even a blob of ink just below the message making him deduce they were thinking for what they wanted to write for a while. The fact that they had overthought the message and ended up sending something so simply caused him to chuckle lightly.

Taking his presents into his bedroom, Harry deposited the robe and gloves atop his trunk before putting the box of fudge and the stuffed rabbit and placing them atop his bedside cabinet. He wasn't certain of who sent the rabbit, especially because of the message that had been sent with it. As a result of what the Hogwarts rumour mill was, his bout of accidental magic that had sent the rest his roommates into a state of unrest had spread like wildfire. He of course had paid no attention whatsoever to what was being said about him, already at this stage of life he felt no need to pay heed to the backstabbing remarks headed his way. The thought however that someone had decided to send him a plush toy to try help relieve him of future nightmares was cute.

At least he thought it was cute, provided what he was feeling now was what he thought it was.

At the current feast going on in the Great Hall, someone else was feeling thoughts that were peculiar to the norm.

…

For the festive occasion, and subsequent few amount of people present, the Great Hall housed only a single table for the Christmas feast, students sitting amongst the faculty members and chatting away about all manner of topics. Albus Dumbledore allowed himself to chuckle at the expense of one of the fifth years failing to notice that their pumpkin juice had been spiked with one of the Weasley Twins patented brews that now had the Hufflepuff student hiccupping bubbles.

Albus then focused his attention towards the Weasley Twins, the children of two of his most supportive followers. Fred and George were an ingenious couple who sought so much more than what the curriculum could give them. They saw what they were learning as stepping stones towards their ever evolving pranks. Heavens forbid the two of them continue their trend after their OWLs.

For the moment however he had to wonder when next they would attempt to make their way through the traps in the third corridor. It had been quite easy to deduct amongst those that still remained in the castle who had attempted to pry their way towards the prize. He had replaced the door that had been obliterated before any of the teachers were any wiser and simply declared that the alarm that had gone off was of his own doing, ensuring that all systems were operational. Professor McGonagall, the other teacher whom the alarm had notified, took his answer without question before returning to her room to retire for the evening.

Taking his eyes off of the twins, he focused towards the first year Slytherin student who hadn't returned home those holidays. Daphne Greengrass, at first glance, had been placed in the wrong house. The blonde-haired child was hardly the epitome of what Slytherin stood for, doubly so as she fidgeted in her seat at that moment, something tearing at her mind. Likely she had sent out a gift to either a family member or friend and was frightened to see what their reaction would be when they saw them again. Such joyful thoughts would likely be squashed in years to come, the world of the cunning and ambitious would strip her of her innocence and make her ruthless towards achieving her goals.

Returning to the turkey spread in front of him, Albus paid little attention to the fact that one student had not joined them for the feast. He hadn't expected Harry to join them for lunch, as far as he had heard he hadn't made himself present at any of the meals ever since the break had begun. He had heard that every morning he would venture down to the kitchen (how he had learned of the location he could only guess) and leave with enough supplies to last him the day. Albus had considered putting a stop to this but assumed that Harry would begin rejoining everyone in the Great Hall once term resumed.

He couldn't remain cooped in her room forever after all.

…

Neville and Hermione had managed to secure a compartment to themselves, the two of them having found seclusion near the rear of the Hogwarts Express. After having exchanged pleasantries, the two of them had quickly begun their dissection of what they had done over the holidays, both recreational and educational. Hermione had actually found it quite surprising that Neville had managed to somehow convince his Grandmother to invite Tracy Davis to their annual Christmas Ball.

When Hermione had asked for photographic proof of the two of them together he refused, stating that due to the horrendous nature of the dress robes he had been forced to wear he had burned all but one of the photos. That photo was framed and by his bed back in the family manor and would not be shown to Hermione any time soon.

Hermione had silently decided that she would focus her attention on asking Tracy for a photo.

The following couple of hours the two of them had gone over their notes, every assignment for the rest of the year already completed having gotten hold of the curriculum from students in grades above them. Other than participating in class, the two of them (and most likely Harry) had nothing to worry about in regards to their lessons. During the holidays, Neville had managed to scour through his family's personal library and had managed to get hold of a number of spells that could potentially help them in the future.

As the door to their compartment slid open however to reveal Draco Malfoy and his two goons standing there with wands outstretched, Neville could only wished he'd learned them sooner.

…

 **Hope you enjoyed.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Harry leaned against the wall close to the entrance to the Grand Hall. Behind him were Hermione and Neville who had come earlier on the Hogwarts Express. When they had arrived they had immediately tracked Harry down to inform him that Draco and his goons had pulled their wands on them on the train. Yet it seemed not a single spell had been fired and Draco had effectively demanded a meeting between himself and Harry that evening.

As a couple of older Hufflepuff students walked past him on the way to dinner, Harry was contemplating just why Draco had instructed to meet in such a public place. When they had duelled (and subsequently lost to Harry) it had been in an isolated corridor that was forbidden for students to be on. Why the corridor was forbidden didn't matter in the slightest but what did matter was the fact that there was little chance that they would have been disturbed there.

Here however they would be in the open. A majority of the students attending Hogwarts were currently located on the other side of the wall he was leaning against. From that alone he believed that there would be no physical or magical contact made. This would be negotiations.

"Here they come," stated Neville.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry's eyes focused down the path before him to see the three Slytherin boys marching towards them. Crabbe and Goyle were lagging that step behind Malfoy which seemed to be the norm before the three of them stopped a handful of feet away from where the trio of Gryffindors were stationed. Several tense moments passed before Draco looked over his shoulder towards where his companions were standing. "Head inside and find a seat, I will join you shortly," he instructed.

Goyle looked as if he wanted to argue but Crabbe knew not to disobey an order and gave him a steady pat on the shoulder as if to reassure Goyle that everything would be alright.

"Hermione, Neville, you can head in," stated Harry keeping his eyes on the blond Slytherin in front of him. "Meet me in my room once you're done."

"Right," said Neville before he and Hermione made their way into the Grand Hall leaving the two first year students alone.

"Shall we walk and talk?" suggested Harry.

"Lead on," said Draco being far more civil than Harry had expected. For nearly a minute the two of them marched through the near empty corridors, the only ones they saw were a couple of fifth year students trying to take advantage of the isolation. Their attention had been that focused on each other that neither paid attention as Draco and Harry walked past.

"I feel like I must warn you Harry," said Draco, Harry hiding his surprise at the fact that Malfoy hadn't called him by his surname. "During the holidays my father took it upon himself to train me. He watched our scuffle on the third floor corridor and felt that I needed to improve. His lessons...were harsh."

"I imagine that's putting it lightly," said Harry, feeling like it was best to be civil in this situation noticing that Malfoy was refusing to look in his direction. He figured like with most of his peers Draco still couldn't associate with him while looking at his disfigured skin and opted not to speak up about it.

"Indeed," said Draco as he came to a stop in the opening to a corridor. Harry walked a few more paces before turning around to face the Slytherin. "My progress however, while decent, was not up to my father's standards."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Harry.

"He felt as if you need to be taught your place, to know your position in the grand scheme of things," stated Draco, stealing a small glance in Harry's direction before turning his attention elsewhere. "Since my father believed that with my progress over the holidays was insufficient, he sought other methods. My father has enough contacts that he asked a few of his associates with students in the upper years to get what he wants done."

"I see, so what do you want for this information?"

"At this stage, nothing," said Draco with a shrug of his shoulders. "I should hope though that were you to come into any information that may or may not be beneficial to me you wouldn't hesitate to tell me."

"There will always be hesitation," stated Harry, his voice becoming colder with every passing word. "For the past pains you have inflicted upon my friends, I will call us even."

"I suppose that's good enough," said Draco casually. "Part of me was hoping for more but considering our past differences I'll take what I can. Be seeing you around Potter."

With that, Harry found himself alone before he bit at the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out everything that had just been laid down for him. For several moments he pried out everything he could from the brief conversation he had had with Draco before allowing a small smile to trickle over his face.

Draco had actually acted like a Slytherin!

Harry had merely been given the intel that he would be attacked, that was all. No indication of when, where, who or even how many. Heck, there may not even be an attack coming at all and this was merely a ploy to keep him on his toes. He had to give it to the blond-haired boy, he actually came up with a plan. Though such praise was diminished somewhat under the pretense that it probably took the entire festive season to think up said plan provided it wasn't gifted to him by his father.

Regardless though, it didn't change his agenda and as he turned and started heading towards his room, Harry felt it necessary to let Hermione and Neville in on what he and the twins had been up to over the holidays.

...

"Harry, why is there a flying key in a birdcage?" asked Hermione as she spotted the usually inanimate object fluttering around the small confines it was trapped in.

"That is the key that opens the door through a passageway that rests underneath a healthy amount of Devil's Snare which in itself is used as a cushion from the fall from the trapdoor which is protected by a Cerberus. Any questions?" said Harry, a bemused smirk crossing his face with every passing word.

For several seconds both Neville and Hermione stared at him, processing everything that the boy had just said before both bombarded him with questions. Harry calmly put his hands up and told them to slow down and that he would explain everything and he did, from how the Weasley twins had ambushed him one night and taken him on an adventure. He explained how after the first time they went underneath the three-headed beast and subsequently blown up the door they had fled fearing they had triggered an alarm. Then they explained the harrowing process on their second attempt where Fred had mounted the broom and a multitude of the other flying keys that wouldn't grant them access had attacked them. George and Harry had done their best to protect the flying Weasley and it had taken the better part of half an hour for Fred to have found and captured the right key after several failed attempts and a lot of bruises and scratches.

Once in the next room, the three of them had discovered the next task to be a set of Wizard's chess, a game that the three of them had no real skill in. While the Weasley twins brother was quite incredible at the game, none of the three really wanted to bring him into the danger that surrounded them. More for the fact that he probably wouldn't keep his mouth shut and subsequently tell everyone he knew more than anything else. Hence they had retreated and chosen to keep the key necessary to grant them access to the chess room, preventing them from having to go through that harrowing experience once more. Since then, George had been getting his arse handed to him by Ron on a daily basis but his skill in the boardgame was slowly growing.

"So what's at the end?" asked Neville.

"We don't know," answered Harry truthfully.

"Well, Dumbledore did say at the beginning of the year to stay clear of that corridor and it's clear that it is dangerous. But, the fact that two second year students and a first year are able to make their way through as much as they have is pretty astounding," said Hermione before noticing the glance being sent her way. "Don't look at me like that Harry, I know you're not just any first year student."

"On the subject of Dumbledore announcements, he did mention tonight that there would be a duelling tournament taking place in March," stated Neville. "Eight students compete, two from each house in years one through three, four and five and finally six and seven."

"A duelling tournament," repeated Harry, raising his hand to cusp his chin in his palm.

"From what I know, this seems to be a new event that he wants to make an annual thing but I could be wrong," said Hermione. "None of the other students at dinner had any real clue what to make of it."

"I think it's a trap," said Harry. "Everyone knows what I did with the troll, or at least they know their own version of it. Dumbledore probably expects me to compete then, or at least McGonagall will try to make me compete. He wants to see what I'm capable of and, as bad as it sounds, I think he wants me to go overboard."

"What makes you say that?" asked Neville.

"Other than you guys and Flitwick, Dumbledore was the person who visited me the most when I was in the hospital wing," stated Harry. "Every time he came in he told me what I did was reckless, dangerous and should have looked at alternative options to killing the troll. So yea, I think he wants me to enter and subsequently injure someone in order to restrict my progress even more."

"As far fetched as it sounds, that's actually quite possible," declared Hermione. "Whether that's true or not doesn't matter when the fact of the matter is this; do we play into his hands or do we choose to ignore it altogether?"

Biting at the inside of his cheek, Harry turned towards Neville. "What do you reckon Nev? Is it worth getting caught up in this mess or do we continue making inroads with the paths we already have?"

Neville's hands came up and massaged at his temples as he mulled it over. "We don't really know any normal duelling rules and while it wouldn't take too much to learn we have to remember that you might be fighting third year students. When you're restricted with what spells you can use it changes the fighting style completely. As much as you could probably just overpower them Harry I don't think it's worth it. Also, you'd have to get onto the Gryffindor team in the first place, meaning tryouts. Ousting ourselves from the rest of the house by muscling our way onto the team will probably have more of a negative impact than anything else. Even if you were just gifted the position I think you should refuse, taking anything would probably make Ron boast about blatant favouritism and whatnot. While many of the other Gryffindors don't pay too much attention to those sort of claims, any who may look at joining us down the line this would have a negative impact on."

There was silence as Hermione and Harry absorbed all of that in before both nodding in agreement. There was no rush after all, they still had quite a number of years left in Hogwarts and isolating themselves any further would be problematic. It was Hermione however who had an immediate brainwave that she couldn't help but share. "What if we got someone else to fight on our behalf?"

Now that got Harry and Neville thinking.

...

"Hey Hermione," said Neville as he and the bushy-haired girl walked back to their common room, intent on getting back well before curfew.

"Yes Neville?"

"I saw the present you got Harry for Christmas, it looked pretty cute on his bedside cabinet."

"The fudge looked cute?" asked Hermione unsure just what Neville meant by the word.

"Fudge, no, I was talking about the stuffed bunny."

"I didn't send Harry a toy animal," clarified Hermione.

"Wait, so if you didn't send it, then who did?" asked Neville and despite Hermione being the smartest witch of their age she was unable to give an answer.

...

Draco sat in the confines of the Slytherin common room as he mulled over what he had accomplished today. He, alongside Crabbe and Goyle had managed to threaten the Mudblood and Blood Traitor into giving him a meeting with Potter, the filth that he was.

Filth though he may be, he couldn't deny that Potter was powerful. Scarily so. The Boy Who Lived wasn't somebody that he could take on and in the upcoming tournament were Potter to enter there was little doubt that he would win. Even with the progress he made over the Winter Solstice, he doubted that he had bridged the gap between them at all.

With that thought in mind he knew that it would be better to use Potter than go against him, even if it meant standing side by side to someone so hideous. Even in their brief meeting he had been sure not to see him eye to eye, he doubted that he would have been able to maintain his composure. He needed to be cunning in his actions from here on out.

His father had been teaching him the aspects of policies and while he would need these things once he took over his father's seat in the Wizengamot he needed to put such skills into place now. While the first idea would be to unite Slytherin house behind him it would be a long term goal. Those in their OWL years and above wouldn't listen to him, at least not until he was out of school and making deals with them. He would establish a base contact with them and try and seal some potential alliances but his focus needed to be on those his own age.

That included those in other houses. He was a member of the Dark where someone like Weasley was a part of the Light. Potter sat somewhere in between and Draco knew he could use that. There was a technical Gray faction of the Wizengamot but they were mostly Lords who sided with noone unless it benefitted themselves. Here in Hogwarts, Potter's faction would unite those that didn't know where they wanted to sit. It would be far easier manipulating someone who didn't know their place than someone who was rooted in the Light. Draco knew he couldn't corrupt someone straight from the Light, but someone who sided with Potter, now that was far easier game.

For now though, he needed to cause some unease amongst his peers and he knew his first target. For there was one other faction he could converse with, and he imagined Heiress Bones would have much to say about a young wizard who would be the target of an attack happening next weekend.

...

Daphne sat in the confines of the Great Hall the following morning, Tracy talking into her ear as she had been since she had stepped foot back into Hogwarts after having visited her family. While it was a much welcome distraction from the silence which had surrounded her over the festive season, it didn't really help that during the break she had been unable to speak to Harry.

It wasn't really through lack of effort on her part but more on the fact that he never seemed to show up to any of the meals during the day, he never visited the library in order to check on his homework and he seemingly lived solely in his room. That was another thing that she wanted to ask him; why did Potter have his own room?

Taking a bite from the crispy bacon that rested on her plate, momentarily grateful for the silence which came with Tracy taking a bite of her buttered toast, Daphne glanced around the Great Hall towards the Gryffindor table. Lo and behold, Harry Potter had come out from isolation and was socializing once more with the outside world. She could feel her teeth grind ever so slightly in frustration before the screeching of the mail owls caught her attention.

She wasn't expecting anything and assumed that most of the mail arriving today would be from families who had discovered that their child had left something back at home over the holidays. For a letter to gracefully land on top of her plate garnered her attention and she couldn't help but wonder who it was from. A quick peek over at the Gryffindor table showed Harry raising his goblet of pumpkin juice while his eyes were locked on hers.

Heat swiftly generated in her cheeks and she grabbed the letter off the table before anybody else noticed she had gotten mail, her fingers clenching the parchment as if they were a lifeline. The giggling from beside her informed Daphne that indeed someone had seen and she flashed her eyes at Tracy with a blazing fire in each pupil. "Not a word," she threatened but the way Tracy brushed it off showed her that her friend wouldn't say anything in public.

Teasing in private however would likely still be on the table.

Grumbling something incoherent, Daphne opened up the parchment to read the message inside. It was short, sharp and to the point, no mincing words and no hidden meaning. It wasn't even offering her anything or even really giving her a chance to reject the invitation that wasn't really an invitation.

It was an order.

 _Daphne,_

 _Come to my room tonight for dinner, I'll provide food._

 _Harry_

The main thing which frustrated her was that Harry refused to make any sort of mention as to what this was all about. Was she meant to bring books for a study session? Was this meant to be a date and she was expected to wear something nice? Could she bring her friend who had thankfully returned her attention to breakfast as opposed to looking at her?

Raising her eyes, Daphne looked over at where Harry was sitting. Or had been sitting, the place where he had been now void of anybody. A low growl escaped her lips before Daphne drove her knife through the bacon on her plate once more.

She would be there but for now she had to regain some manner of composure before classes began. With Professor Binns speaking about the Goblin Revolution however she didn't feel like that would be much of a challenge.

During said lesson though she came across one pivotal problem that she hadn't thought about.

Where was Harry's room?

...

Harry sat on his armchair that rested by the fireplace, his eyes glancing into the red and orange flames which danced over burning wood. His elbows were placed on his knees and his fingers were linked and positioned underneath his chin.

The assignment he had been given today from Professor Sprout had already been completed months prior with Hermione having gathered the information about said assignment from a few older classmates. He, Hermione and Neville had completed the curriculum for the year other than the Defence Against the Dark Arts assignments but with the time they had at their disposal that wouldn't be too difficult.

On the table in the middle of the room were two plates of food that he had prepared earlier down in the kitchens before having the House Elves bring the meals to his room. At first they had been quite adamant that they were more than happy to cook whatever he wished until he had said it was for someone special and they had quickly backed off.

A knock on the door caused a devilish smile to momentarily spread across Harry's face as he turned away from the light of the fire. He knew his goals, he knew what he had to accomplish and silently hoped that Daphne would stay with him through what he had to say. While Hermione and Neville were comfortable chatting with him, he was more than aware that his presence made it difficult for others.

Swallowing down his inhibitions, Harry got to his feet and made his way to the door, scarred fingers gripping the doorknob. Taking one final intake of breath, he opened the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Daphne sat nervously inside Harry's personal chambers. While she was doing her best to represent herself in the way that her mother had taught her from a young age it was difficult to maintain her composure. It didn't help that Harry was staring directly at her, as if judging her every intake of breath and any potential fidget that would give him any sort of psychological advantage.

As odd as it sounded, Daphne was perhaps one of the few people in the castle who wasn't grotesquely disgusted by Harry's outwards appearance. This was mostly due to what her father had shown her from the last war. While they had stayed out of much of the actual fighting between the Dark and the Light, her father had deemed it necessary to show her what two opposing forces could do to one another.

He had shown her memories of when he had walked through the halls of St Mungo's Hospital where one of his friends had been admitted. He had taken the time to look at as many of the patients as he could, to remind himself what the horrors of war could accomplish and with the use of a Pensieve, Daphne could feel the same.

Yet it wasn't the scars and disfigurements which had her on edge. It was Harry's eyes. They were cold, calculated and she dared not imagine what had befallen someone her age to look at someone in the way that Harry was looking at her.

There was a deep intake of breath before Harry leant back into his armchair, closing his eyes for several seconds before opening them once more and allowing himself to exhale. "You didn't have to come you know."

"Yes I did," Daphne snapped back before flinching at the tone of voice she had used. She wanted to mutter an apology of some sort but Harry cut her off beforehand.

"No, you didn't. What I sent you wasn't a command or an instruction, it was an invitation," he said.

' _That was NOT an invitation!'_ Daphne thought but chose not to question Harry's ability to ask someone to go somewhere. "A little more detail on why I was wished to come would have been nice," she said instead.

"Yet you still came."

There it was, his voice changed once more into the calculated tone she knew. Daphne bit at the inside of her lip as she wondered whether or not those fleeting moments just before were the expressions of the real Harry Potter and this was his defence. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she responded. "As you said, the note you sent me was an invite and it would have been rude of me to not accept without a valid excuse."

"Indeed," said Harry leaning forward once more so that his elbows were on his knees and his fingers laced together and resting beneath his chin. "Which then begs the question as to what you want to get out of this? Slytherin is the house of the ambitious is it not? So I take it that you want something, you wouldn't have come here otherwise."

Daphne felt Harry's words sting and she couldn't help but know that he was correct. Steeling herself, she mimicked Harry and leant forward so that their eyes were on equal levels. "I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Who is Harry Potter?"

Daphne studied Harry intently, wondering what his reaction to her question would be. She had expected a flinch or some sort of small movement to show that he was scared of talking about himself. She could still recall the day when he had been summoned up to the Sorting Hat. She had already been sorted into Slytherin by that time and had as surprised as everyone when his name was called out. Sure Draco had tried to get a rise out of the boy before they had entered the Grand Hall but nobody had answered his call, making her feel that it was just a ploy by the Malfoy heir.

When he had been called out a second time before sprinting out of the room, she had felt more intrigue than before and been shocked when the fabled Boy Who Lived bolted. She had paid no attention to the brutal amount of rumours that had swelled on that table that night and had merely wanted to know the truth. She was not fascinated with rumours and theories.

The real Harry Potter was what she was after.

"That's a big question," answered Harry after a few moments before he flashed his teeth and Daphne couldn't help but see how perfect they were, a complete contradiction to the rest of his form. Too perfect. Potion perfect. She felt herself become ill at the mere thought of why her peer had had to have potions to fix his teeth but knew that this was part of the reason why she was here.

She wanted answers.

And she would get them.

"How about you break it into smaller parts?"

Okay, that wasn't what she was expecting. Before she could retort, Harry held up a hand, silencing her before she had the chance to speak. "I propose a challenge then," said Harry. "We'll play Chess. For every piece that is lost, the person who took it gets to ask a question of reasonable proportions that the other player must answer truthfully. Do we have an accord?"

Daphne couldn't help but bite at her thumb. This was the chance she had been after. Any question she asked would be answered. But what did he mean by reasonable proportions? Did that give him the right to refuse every question she asked? Was he the one who decided what was reasonable?

"Before all that though, why don't we get to dinner. I made it myself after all," declared Harry gesturing to the nearby table.

Daphne had paid minimal thought to the display when she had entered the room, having kept her eyes on Harry. Now that she had been shown the food designated for consumption her stomach decided to play against her will and growled. Loudly. Fidgeting in her seat, she couldn't even make eye contact as she spoke. "D-Dinner would be appropriate."

Well, at least she had a meal to contemplate potential questions to ask.

...

Would have been her main thought were the cooking not on a professional level! She had been sceptical at first, wondering just what kind of meal someone her age could produce but this had blown her mind right out of the water. Harry meanwhile just sat there and Daphne couldn't help but wonder if he did this on a regular basis?

She put down her cutlery and looked at Harry who was currently making his way through his own dinner. The moment she went to open her mouth and question Harry he raised a finger without lifting his eyes from his plate. Daphne's mouth shut in an instance and knew that had she even asked a question he wouldn't have answered. They still had their game coming up shortly and she could ask every question she wanted then.

After all, she had won several junior tournaments as a child against teenagers many years older than her. Her mother had been against the idea but when her father had discovered her talent for the strategic game at a young age he had been more than happy to help develop Daphne's ability. He had proclaimed that no daughter of his would be limited to the duties of a housewife.

Now, due to her father's dedication, she was about to uncover the secrets of Harry Potter.

And it would all be worth it.

...

Draco sat in the corner of the Slytherin common room, his eyes glancing over every other student in the area. Many were in discussions with one another regarding what the other did over the festive break while a few of the older students were talking about assignments and what they should work on leading towards OWLs and above.

The Malfoy Heir paid no attention to that whatsoever.

His time with his family had been anything but pleasant. When his father wasn't disciplining him, his mother had been berating him. It had been terrible. Yet, and this was a big yet, he had learned something. His childhood had been filled with false beliefs. Being told that he was destined for greatness was perhaps the biggest lie he had ever been fed. Half a year at Hogwarts had shown him that he wasn't destined for anything.

While his father had sought to teach him many lessons as a result of his shortcoming against Potter, he knew that the advances he had made in his own lessons would mean nothing. He had the ability to summon a cobra now, one of the most poisonous snakes on the planet. That meant nothing in the grand scheme of things!

So what? He could summon a serpent he had no control over, how was that beneficial in any way? It was just as likely to attack him as it was to attack himself. Sure it could be used as a distraction but that didn't mean that it wouldn't sink it's fangs into him whilst cursing his target.

No, whatever strength he had gained over the holidays would prove fruitless, and there was always the possibility that while he had increased in power, Potter had been doing the same. There was an entire library filled with knowledge that seventh year students required for the NEWTs, it was highly unlikely that Potter hadn't managed to take a peek at what the Hogwarts endgame was.

Chances were that he would never get the strength to tackle Potter one on one and thankfully he wasn't stupid enough to even contemplate trying it. Also with the Blood Traitor Longbottom backing him up, politically he would be pretty much ready to tackle the Wizengamot the moment he stepped foot outside of Hogwarts. The one saving grace in all of this was that from what Draco had noticed, Harry didn't seem to have a fondness for the Headmaster which was a bonus in the greater scheme of things.

Now though, he had to play things smart, play from the background. Crabbe and Goyle were going to remain loyal to his cause no matter what path he stepped down, the alliances between their families would ensure that. The older students would tolerate his presence for some time until he could truly show them his worth and if that worth were to include a couple of Galleons then so be it. In the years to come though he had to make sure every student in the snake pit was aware that he was the one that they should be following.

He felt though that his goals, while ambitious, were too localized. Slytherin was just one House after all. Gryffindor students would never listen to him, the House rivalry was too fierce and many of his peers under the lion banner. Those in Ravenclaw would only see him as a distraction, their academics were their first priority if stereotypes were to be believed.

That left the students in Hufflepuff. Specifically the one he had already contacted.

Their loyalty was both their greatest asset and potentially their biggest downfall. Should one of them feel threatened in any way it was more than likely that the rest of the students would support them and consequently band together in order to prevent anything following up. The pieces were in place and should all go according to plan, the fear that a single student felt could very well be the beginning of the end for Potter.

...

Daphne stared at the board in front of her and did her best to recall all of the stipulations Harry had laid out before dinner. The food had thrown her thoughts astray but the aim was still simple. Win the game and find out as much as she could in this single chance. She still didn't know what technically qualified as an appropriate question however and knew that she could very well have to lose a piece or two in order to understand.

She would be the victor at the end though, of that she had no doubt.

"Do you have a preference?" asked Harry.

"No." Daphne had confidence she would win regardless of whether she went second or first.

"Very well, I'll go black then."

Daphne couldn't help but see the irony in that the son of one of the most well known 'light' families had opted to choose the darker colours and subsequently go second. Commanding her pawn to move forward, the game began. When Harry moved his pawn onto the board, Daphne considered her options momentarily before sending her own piece forward, directly into the path where Harry could destroy it.

He didn't seem surprised at this move, as if having expected it before taking her piece. Daphne thought nothing of it, losing a single pawn this early in the game would have no real downfall for her in the long run. She just needed to know what kind of questions she could give.

"How are you enjoying your time at Hogwarts?"

Well that was disappointing. "It's fine," she answered wondering whether Harry had played her like she had been trying to play him.

"Is that your honest opinion?" asked Harry, his eyes glaring at her making her feel uncomfortable once more under his gaze. At the same time though there was something else in the look that he was giving her, an understanding of sorts. It was for this reason, Daphne found herself opening up.

"It's been difficult at times," she said casting her gaze to the floor. "The schoolwork is pretty easy and that could just be because it's our first year, but the politics are getting to me. Everyone in Slytherin has a family with a background and some of the students you have to be very careful what you say. In the first week no less than four students had to make formal apologies for their actions and behaviour. It's...I don't know."

"That's okay," said Harry before gesturing at the board. "Your move."

Focusing on the board in front of her, Daphne was happy that Harry hadn't pried further and hazarded a guess that he didn't want to make her feel more uncomfortable. 'Reasonable proportions,' she reminded herself. Two turns went by and now she had her own chance to ask a question of Harry.

"How do you know how to cook so well?"

"I started when I was five," answered Harry looking up from the board. "If I didn't cook as my aunt wanted, I was beaten. If I didn't cook it well enough, I was beaten. If I didn't cook enough, I was beaten. I had to learn how to cook well in order to prevent myself from getting hurt."

Daphne had found her eyes widening with every sentence Harry said and her mouth was now hanging open. Beatings? Harry had been beaten? By his aunt? Before she could continue this train of thought however Harry played his next move, taking out one of her own pieces but putting himself in a precarious position overall.

"Why didn't you go home for the holidays?"

Still struggling to get her head around what she just heard, Daphne floundered for a bit before answering. "I was going to but a couple of days beforehand I got an owl from my father telling me that my sister had come down with an illness and that it would likely spread to me were I there. He suggested I stay and that we'd just spend the time before second year as a family. Now what was this about you getting beaten?"

"What's to say, I got hit repeatedly, your move," said Harry treating his past injuries as if they were nothing, something which shocked Daphne. She was swift in taking out his next piece, a bishop this time and she was already asking her question before the member of Harry's forces had been destroyed.

"Why are you so casual about this? You were a kid getting beaten up by your relatives and you treat it as if it was nothing?"

"Because it was all I knew," said Harry calmly yet the words struck Daphne like a Cutting Curse. "At school and at home it was all the same, while other children were shown love and caring from their parents I knew no such thing."

Several more moves passed without much action before Harry played aggressively, putting Daphne into Check before having the minor advantage destroyed. The female student bit at the inside of her lip as she wondered just what to ask from here, her mind still reeling from the information she had been given.

"What subject do you like the most?" she eventually asked, a rush question to prevent herself from sitting there in silence for minutes on end. It was a silly question and one that she didn't really need an answer to but her mind had mostly gone blank.

"Potions," answered Harry. "While Snape isn't the best of professors the subject itself is pretty fascinating."

Well, at least Daphne got an answer that she hadn't been expecting. Now though her mind was focused on the board in front of her and more specifically, her way to victory. There would only be a couple of pieces taken as a result but she felt that were she to drag this game out for longer than she wished Harry could get some intel out about her. Sure he had only asked simple day to day questions so far but she knew that he could change that in a heartbeat.

Black knight down.

"Check. What are you going to do at the end of term?"

"Probably rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron or some other hotel, don't really want to go back there."

White bishop down.

"Did the Sorting Hat contemplate putting you in another house?"

"It contemplated putting me into Hufflepuff before going for Slytherin."

Black rook down.

"Check. Do you know what you want to do after finishing Hogwarts?"

"Probably travel, see the world a bit before figuring out what I'm going to do from there."

Black bishop down.

"Checkmate."

...

It was barely moments after the game had finished before there was a knocking on the door. Daphne nearly leapt from her seat, having been so focused on how to get Harry to reveal more of his secrets.

"Wonder who that could be?" mused Harry as he stepped up from the table. Daphne meanwhile was somewhat flustered, not having expected the conclusion of their match to be interrupted in such a way. Also she was somewhat worried. The Hogwarts gossip wheel was an atrocious thing and Daphne knew that were one of the more imaginative minds were to see her spending one on one time with Harry Potter, the rumours would spread until the end of the year.

Harry opened the door to reveal Fred and George, the two Gryffindor students with their arms crossed over their chest. "Well, well, well, young Harrikins," said the one on the left.

"Imagine our surprise," said the one on the right.

"When we decided to have a look on the school."

"To discover, to our horror."

"That you were not alone in your room."

"But with a Slytherin first year girl no less," they said as one, their eyes glancing at Daphne who had stepped up from her seat and was now looking somewhat ashamed of being there. In the back of her mind however she did bury the fact that she had been notified that she was with Harry alone. As much as she would have wished they knew was due to wards, her own knowledge of wards may very well have allowed them to know that there was someone else in here. But for them to specify her down to being one of the four first year Slytherin girls, including herself, Pansy, Millicent and Tracy was more than impressive. It was terrifying.

How had they known that someone else was in this room in the first place? How had they limited it down to such a group? Could they have really tracked the person down in Harry's room even further? Did they know that she was here specifically and opted not to say so? She was scared and it took all of her teachings in order to not show it. Or at least she hoped it wasn't showing.

"George, how's your chess game going?" Harry asked of the Weasley twins, waiting for one of the two to answer. He knew that under normal circumstances both would repeat in their twin thing that they normally did. Yet they knew that this was something specific and consequently George changed his pose and gazed at Harry.

"It's been improving. Why?" he asked.

"Good, go get your ass handed to you by Daphne," said Harry. George, seeing it as a challenge, stepped forward to tackle the first year student in the game he had been building up for for weeks.

"What's George's chances?" asked Fred as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"I got smashed," declared Harry. "George is going to lose and in doing so, I think we found someone else to go down the rabbit hole with us." Anybody else may have been confused at the statement, but at one time, a miracle as it may have been, Harry had been able to watch the classic animated film, Alice in Wonderland. He had wanted to communicate as often as he could with the Weasley twins without drawing attention and as such had opted to use the 'Rabbit Hole' quote for when they were talking about what the Cerberus on the third floor was guarding. It seemed somewhat appropriate.

"But with Daphne Greengrass? Can we trust her?" asked Fred as the game in the middle of the room began.

"Maybe," said Harry honestly. "We've got time before we go downstairs. I reckon I can convince her by then."

"When do you want to go down?"

"March."

Fred seemed to connect the dots and merely nodded in understanding. "Anybody else coming down the rabbit hole with us?"

"Hermione and Neville."

"Gotcha," said Fred before moving over to witness what Harry assumed was his brother getting his but whooped. Looking at the board thus far, the first year Gryffindor student may very well have been right.

Harry meanwhile turned to look at the blazing fire as his mind went about wondering how best to get Daphne to join them in their quest. Technically she had taken his king and rightfully deserved the answer to one more question but that wouldn't be enough. He needed to give her something big in exchange for her skill and the sooner the better.

What he could give however was the question. 'Hey, we're going to violate the rules of the castle and could possibly get expelled in the process, you in?' Yea, he was going to need to offer something really big here.

...

Two games passed and as George breathed a sigh of relief at the game being over and his humiliation done and dusted, the twins left with winks and sly remarks leaving just Harry and Daphne alone once more. The Slytherin girl fiddled with her garments momentarily having not been expecting the company that had barged into what she would loosely describe as a date.

"I know you've got one question left," said Harry. "Instead however, I want to show you something."

"Show me something?" Daphne repeated.

"How about I take you to where I killed the troll and walk you through what I did step by step?"

Now this was an offer Daphne couldn't refuse.

...

"How was it?" asked Tracy, the two girls sitting in the Slytherin common room and the Davis heiress already keen to get the gossip.

"It was awkward at first," declared Daphne. "It was like he didn't really know how to interact with me but I think that may very well been because..." Daphne found herself unable to relay the sensitive information that she had heard from Harry in the common room. She didn't know if she'd be able to ever tell it to anyone, the thought alone made her sick.

"Because?" repeated Tracy, clearly wanting to know what Daphne was going to say.

"It's nothing," said Daphne but Tracy knew her friend better than that but merely opted not to push further. Yet.

"Alright then, so when are you meeting Harry again?"

"Sunday," answered Daphne before standing up. "C'mon, I'll tell you more in the bedroom."

Tracy nodded and followed her friend, neither of them noticing that the back end of their conversation had been overheard by one Gregory Goyle. The member of Slytherin may not have been the brightest individual in the world, but he knew well enough that this was something Draco would probably want to know about.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed. See ya in the New Year.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Susan did her best to avoid the stinging hex that had been shot in her direction, the spell missing by the barest of margins before firing off a Jelly-Leg Jinx, crying out the spell with full force and watched with satisfaction as it crashed into her opponent. While it wouldn't win the battle outright, the student whom she was facing began to panic as their centre of balance began to shift underneath them.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Susan before smiling as her target was struck, them being too focused on trying to get their legs back under control.

"Winner!" announced Professor Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff was swiftly followed by the rest of the students in attendance applauding in appreciation of what they had just witnessed. As much as many of the third and second students would hate to admit, they were more likely than not going to be playing second fiddle to the first year student before them.

Susan meanwhile was already replaying the brief conflict she had just been a part of. As a child her aunt had taken it upon herself to teach Susan the best way to defend herself and being the head of the DMLE the older witch was quite experienced regarding how to battle opponents. She had given the Bones heiress a vast deal of knowledge, much of which the young girl had yet to show in her battles thus far.

She did have to figure though that many of the older students were somewhat crippled in their learning regarding how to fight against others. From what she had heard, for decades Hogwarts had been unable to maintain a solid Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum due to the teacher changing every year. Having spoke with a third year student, they had yet to cover anything that she didn't already know which was saying something for one of the core subjects of the school.

Regardless, she had felt that she had been somewhat sloppy in her fight just prior. Her footwork hadn't been quite on point and her aim had been slightly off in the opening moments. She had been taught from an early age that single moment's hesitation could be the difference between victory and defeat.

Her mind though had started on another topic and now that she had joined the ranks while awaiting for the next bout to begin she didn't hear the words of encouragement her friends gave her. The thoughts of how she would fare against the strongest of her peers.

Susan knew she was good.

Not troll killing good though.

Harry Potter, he by far was one of the few she truly wished to fight in the upcoming tournament. She wasn't one for rumours but knew that most came from an ounce of truth and if all the rumours centred around a fact of one boy killing something most wouldn't dare face without reinforcements. If there was anyone around her year level she truly felt could give her a challenge then it would be him.

Except she had been leaked intel from someone whom her aunt had told her not to trust. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy who apparently had a knack for being able to talk his way out of any sort of slippery situation. From what little she had spoken with his son however it seemed the trait had not yet passed far down the line as of yet.

Draco however had told her that he had heard that Harry had planned to ambush a bunch of upper year Slytherin students who hoped to inspect the area where the first year had slain the troll this Friday after dinner. At first this had sounded all sorts of warning alarms in her mind until Draco said that he planned on attacking them to keep the secret safe. She had asked what secret and the Slytherin had merely shrugged his shoulders before walking off.

She had wished this was merely speculation but her curiosity was definitely getting the better of her. She wanted to know how strong he was but she knew that she couldn't tackle a number of Slytherin students on her own. What she had learned from her aunt thus far had been fully in regards to facing creatures or people on a one on one basis. The fact that Draco feared for the safety of his peers against a single person though, this she had to bare witness to and not simply hear from second hand sources.

Could someone her age truly stand against more than a single opponent and come out on top? Or would it be beneficial for the sole individual if she was there to help?

Well, one way or another she was determined to find out.

...

Harry sat in the confines on his room after having been in yet another meeting with Professor McGonagall regarding his current sleeping arrangements. Once more he had said that he had had a recent magical episode while he had been sleeping but had kept it secret as he didn't want anyone to spread the word around. Thankfully she had bought it and had agreed to have Harry remain in his own area until the end of the school year. At the start of the following year however she had explained that if he was still having bursts of magical energy in his sleep then they would have to look at getting him checked up at St. Mungo's Hospital.

Harry hadn't really been able to argue and wondered why part of the conversation had taken so long to come up before he figured that Dumbledore had not wished Harry to visit the magical hospital. Word getting out that the hero of the magical world couldn't control his abilities was something the Headmaster wouldn't risk spreading around unless absolutely necessary. If that was the case then Harry very well would have to admit defeat and accept the fact that he would be bunking with his peers once more.

Hopefully he could find somewhere else in the castle to isolate himself from the rest and potentially 'accidentally' fall asleep somewhere else on more than one occasion. Of course all of his extra study would have to be properly hidden, the fact he was studying things from the library he was certain wasn't in the upper year curriculums couldn't be found out. He wouldn't be able to properly brew potions and study in the Gryffindor common room, not without being ostracised even more and unfortunately he couldn't do that with the long term goals he, Hermione and Neville had in place.

Frankly, being locked away with the rest of his peers was by far a worse case scenario. Unfortunately he couldn't figure out a way to get around it, at least not without doing something which would have him removed from the campus entirely.

A knock on the door caused Harry to get up from his armchair, adjusting his robes as he did so. Checking the time, Harry theorized that Daphne had either eaten her dinner at an alarming rate or had skipped it entirely in order to make it here at this moment. Regardless, it was time for him to take her to where he had slain the troll and explain how he had done so.

Hopefully she wouldn't be too disappointed by how simple it was in his eyes.

...

"Is that all?"

"Not really," said Harry. "In order for me to get the giant on the ground I had to freeze the ground beneath it, remove its foothold."

"So what, you froze the floor," scolded Daphne, her arms crossed across her chest as if disappointed by the answer.

"But remember, by this point I had lost my wand, not to mention slumped up against the floor with a couple broken ribs," said Harry matter of factly before pointing to the spot he remembered so well. "So tell me, how did I freeze the floor?"

Daphne followed a lump that had formed in her throat. "You...you channeled the magic through your body?" It didn't come out as a statement, but rather a question. "But that...that's..."

"Difficult, I know," concluded Harry.

"Not difficult, it should be damn near impossible, especially for kids our age. Someone like Dumbledore maybe but even only in theory."

"Yet still," said Harry solemnly, "I managed to do it, at a cost."

"At a cost?" repeated Daphne.

"Let's just say that if it weren't for Madam Pomfrey's healing abilities I very well have lost an arm."

Daphne felt her heart still for a moment as she placed together the pieces of the puzzle that Harry was most likely leaving out on purpose. He had had a number of days before this inevitable confrontation and had possibly gone through thousands of ways this conversation would have panned out. Suddenly she felt herself on the chessboard once again but this time she felt like the underdog, a scattering of pieces against a force which hadn't yet had it's defences assaulted.

Still though, she could win this.

"Alright then, so you have the troll at your mercy, one arm down but the creature is at your feet, unable to stand up, but without your wand, what do you do?" she asked confidently, waiting to see what feeble finale Harry had. Without his wand by his side and severely injured, she could only assume that another had come and dealt the finishing blow, one of the professors perhaps.

"As far as Madam Pomfrey knows, I levitated the axe out of the suit of armour's grasp and into my own," stated Harry, indicating towards the empty pedestal where the mentioned suit once resided. "Now, while I may have told her this, it is not true. Can you tell me why?"

Daphne took a couple of seconds of contemplation before the answer came to her. "Your wand arm was still frozen. It wouldn't have mattered if you had gotten your wand back, you couldn't cast with it."

"So, how did I get the axe?"

"You...you..." started Daphne before taking a deep breath. "You stood up, ignoring the incredible amount of pain you were in and...did you rip it from the armour?"

"Yes."

"How did you pull it from it's grasp? Not only must it have weighed a stupid amount but this is a magical castle, there must be enchantments on things like weapons to prevent students from getting hold of them."

"Maybe," said Harry with a shrug of the shoulders. He had actually wondered that exact thing on multiple occasions but he had come to the conclusion that Hogwarts itself had allowed him to use the items at it's disposal to help him survive. It had seemed ludicrous at first but the more outlandish ideas he had created all seemed to falter compared to that theory. Unfortunately there was no real way to prove or disprove that possibility for the moment so for now he had decided to let that one slide on by for now.

"Still, regardless, you tore down the suit of armour, grabbed the axe and beheaded the troll and as if that isn't crazy enough, you did so with only one hand!"

"Took a handful of swings but that about sums it up."

"How are you so casual about all of this? You make it sound like it's an everyday occurance."

Harry took a couple of deep breaths as he readied himself to answer the question he had always known was coming. "Because, when all you've known for so long is pain and suffering it feels nice to be able to dish it out once in a while."

Daphne felt her heart still for a moment as Harry said those words, once more without a sense of any anguish or guilt. He had killed a creature and by the sounds of it, felt nothing. It was terrifying to think that once more he could kill something else and feel the exact same amount of nothingness.

She momentarily recalled when she had first seen Harry, or at least recognized him for who he was. She had already been sorted into Slytherin by that point but when his name had been called out she had felt her gut clench ever so slightly. Then when Harry had fled from the Great Hall in something reminiscent of a mental attack caused by a mix of anxiety and fear she had wondered why. Now, now was something completely different.

Whatever fear and hatred he had accumulated before he had come to these sacred learning grounds he had managed to channel into something more. Morality had seemingly been tossed out the window and he had closed off all but the most essential of emotions. In doing so, he almost felt...

"That sounded rather dark, Potter," said a voice from the otherside of the corridor, spooking Daphne somewhat as she hadn't imagined somebody listening in to their conversation. Harry slowly turned towards the direction as a handful of Slytherin students stepped out from around the corner. A quick glance over his shoulder showed an exit, a free path towards an area to avoid whatever conflict was potentially to come.

He had no need of it himself.

Daphne meanwhile...

"What do you want?" asked Daphne, recognizing the Slytherin robes that the other students had wrapped around one of the two exits. They were a year, even two above both herself and Harry but still they outnumbered them by at least thrice. Many of which she recalled by sight but none of them she could recall heralded from a prominent family.

It only made sense that they were out to make a name for themselves.

"Well with the dueling tournament coming up, it only makes sense that we take out the strongest," proclaimed another of the Slytherin students. A third year if Daphne recollected. "So you know, no hard feelings."

There was no remorse in his remark.

Daphne raised her wand, albeit her hand shaking ever so slightly. These boys intended to harm Harry and if she was to hazard a guess, any wayward spell that potentially collided with her would be considered as collateral damage. Each of them already had their wand and in an instant they rose and her heart stilled.

She couldn't tell who said what spell, she could only hear a multitude of voices speaking in a single moment and the wand movements from each student was different. All it meant was that she was in trouble. Her quivering hand went to form an arc, intent on creating a shield to defend herself but she knew that her magical power could perhaps block a single spell, two if she was lucky.

Seven though? Her shield would shatter in an instant.

Thankfully she had no need to go through the motion.

A wall of ice exploded in front of her, protecting her and Harry from the oncoming assault. She could see the colours of the spells intending to cause the two of them harm splash off the frozen protection. Daphne allowed the breath she had been holding to be exhaled, short rapid breathing swiftly followed as she realized just how much danger she had been in.

"Stay back," commanded Harry, Daphne merely nodding in understanding as the Boy Who Lived made several intricate movements with his wand, causing the protective barrier he had created to lift off of the ground. The frozen shield then granted him protection as he marched forward, his wand at the ready as he ignored the spells which were unable to penetrate his defence.

Daphne meanwhile felt her breath hitch once more as the grip on her wand tightened. Was there truly nothing she could do in this situation? Would she even have the strength to do so if she was by his side or would she merely be more of a hindrance than help?

One of the Slytherin students unleashed a Bombarda, causing a chunk of the ice to explode but not completely destroy the ice wall. It was however, the start of something brutal as Harry used his own version of the spell from behind the wall, causing it to violently explode and pelt the teenagers with large shards of ice. The Slytherin students reflexively turned their heads away in order to ensure that their eyes weren't damaged by any of the frozen projectiles. Harry used this moment to his advantage, pulling two vials out of the sleeve of his robe and tossing them forward before shooting them out of midair, the contents consequently splashing over the intended targets.

That was when the true chaos began.

...

Susan hid behind the pillar, her throat clenching ever so slightly as she found it difficult to breathe. She had remained out of sight thus far and she sincerely doubted that Daphne would turn her attention behind her to where the Hufflepuff first year was hidden. Susan had no doubt that the Greengrass heiress was as mentally entrapped with the spectacle befalling much like she herself was.

It had been no surprise that Draco's information was skewiff. It hadn't been Harry who had been intending to ambush the Slytherin's but the other way round but it seemingly mattered very little. Harry was mesmerizing in a truly terrifying way.

How long did the Slytherin students fare against the lone Gryffindor? It could only have been a minute or perhaps not even that long? All Susan knew was that she couldn't move, afraid that the slightest sound would cause her to become the centre of attention and she wanted nothing to do with Harry lest she became his target of vengeance. Was it even vengeance? Defence? A show of power?

For whatever reason, she had no intention of ever getting in Harry's way. Heck, she had to warn all of her friends that they shouldn't get anywhere near Harry. It had always been said that those in Hufflepuff valued loyalty over all else. Many would think that as a result Susan would have the back of any of her peers that encountered Potter.

She would do no such thing.

Slowly backing away, doing her best not to make a sound, Susan knew what she would be informing the rest of the Hufflepuff faculty of what she had seen. She would be loyal to her fellow badgers by letting them know that in order to ensure their safety, keeping clear was the best option available.

Slinking into the nearby corridor, Susan took a deep breath only just realizing how long it had been since she had taken a solid intake of air. Keeping low, Susan made her way back towards the stairway so that she could head back towards the Hufflepuff common room. She had spent more than enough time here and seen more than she ever thought she would.

...

Daphne struggled to find her voice as Harry marched towards her, ignoring the heap of bodies behind him. That had been brutal in her opinion and the fact that despite the close proximity they had been in it almost looked as if Harry hadn't even been hit by a single spell. In fact, he hadn't, something which should have been impossible!

Seeing Daphne go to open her mouth, Harry cut in before she could get a single word out. "At the beginning of the scuffle I tossed both a Befuddlement Draught and a Confusion Concoction in the middle of them. Both are advanced potions that have to be crafted with the utmost care not to inhale the fumes as while not as potent as consuming the liquid, the effect is still there."

"Confusion Concoction? Befuddlement Draught?" repeated Daphne having not read about either one in the textbooks she had been assigned this year.

"Essentially, I made them both confused and highly aggressive so when they began to attack there was no guarantee I would be their target. Two of them did aim at me but the rest merely saw red."

Daphne recalled the other night how Harry had said that he Potions was his favourite subject. Yet not only was he crafting something that she likely wouldn't read about for at least another year but was already working out how best to use them to his advantage and he had been carrying said potions on him? Had he been expecting an attack or was he just that paranoid?

"Daphne," said Harry, breaking the blonde haired girl out of her stupor. "Did you make it onto the Slytherin Dueling team?"

"No," said Daphne far quicker than she should have.

"Good, ten minutes before the tournament begins, meet me on the forbidden third corridor, we'll have work to do."

"We?" said Daphne in confusion before Harry started walking past her, completely ignoring the bodies left behind him. Sudden realization ran through her system as she turned to face the back of her peer. "Wait, you're not competing?"

"No."

"Why not?" she asked what she felt was an obvious question.

"I rather not have people know what I'm capable of."

The answer sent shivers down Daphne's spine as Harry turned the corner and escaped from her line of sight. What he was capable of? Looking over her shoulder Daphne viewed the members of her school house were still on the ground and in need of medical assistance. If what had happened to them was not all that Harry was capable of then she feared just what he could really do if he were ever to get serious.

...


End file.
